His Meister, Her Weapon
by Sulfur Dusk
Summary: AU - Whether it was destiny or luck, she couldn't decide. A chance meeting, a demonic grin, an unbreakable contract and, suddenly, Maka's soul was no longer hers. A darker retelling of Soul Eater. [ Soul x Maka ]
1. Prologue

**His Meister, Her Weapon**

* * *

\- The Trials and Tribulations of the Misguided Heroes -

* * *

 **Full Summary:** _"You want to become my meister." Those blood gem eyes were so tantalizing, hypnotic. She was strong too; he could sense her fire. "We'll see about that," he whispered smugly, grabbing her by the collar of her shirt and smashing his mouth onto hers. - A darker retelling of Soul Eater –_

 **A/N:** _There will be some creative liberties taken with this. As in, I'm going to add some of my own rules to the original universe of Soul Eater, with both the manga and the anime. Don't worry, nothing too drastic, but hopefully, as long as what I'm planning pans out right, it'll be a decent addition and good rocket fuel, so to speak, for the relationship dynamics between Soul and Maka as well as the other meisters/weapons._

 _Also, there will be some darker elements, but with humor thrown in from time to time… lots of black/dark comedy, basically, if I can accomplish it. :P I'm open to suggestions regarding the other characters/pairings in case you guys want some input. Soul will be a bit… different, but not too different, if that makes sense. He will definitely be more territorial and possessive of Maka in this version than the other, but I doubt that'll be a complaint. :P_

* * *

 **Prologue**

* * *

For centuries, tales of incredible warriors—presenting supernatural talents unlike anything those of regular blood had seen before—had been passed down for numerous years. Soon, it became a general norm, encompassing a foundation for humans gifted with different identities and roles in society that eventually became organized.

The acceptance of the existence of demons, ghouls, witches, spirits, and other otherworldly entities only provided greater support to the idea of actually _accepting_ these extraordinarily talented people that took pride in their skills. Some could leap higher than mountains; some could race across the seas in the blink of an eye without the assistance of machinery; some could command the weight of the weather with a snap of their fingers… however, none of these feats were possible unless they were accompanied by another person.

Not everyone could become a _meister_ , as the title suggested, which was given to those who could command the state of their allies without any trouble. Not every partnership between a meister and their ally—a powerful human that could transform into a singular weapon—worked out in the end; this served as a controversial matter on its own.

In the more modernized views of the eventually formed United States of America, discussing the matters of meisters and weapons almost became an illegal practice thanks to protesters. Concerns about the advantages that meisters and weapons had with each other and their possible lead over the government was a popular topic of discussion for a long time.

However, most of the concerns were put to an abrupt stop, thanks to the formation of _Shibusen_ , a unique private school created by the highly respected official, Lord Death, the nicknamed Grim Reaper who kept his officials quiet with his missions and objectives.

He made sure that only those who came to Death City and knew about his organization would be the only ones to know of the existence of meisters and weapons, wiping clean the memories of humans who were too concerned about the possible power that levitated above their control.

Unknown to Lord Death (since he supported nearly everything associated with the practice of harnessing powers between meisters and weapons), there were some complications that arose with the formation of the school. Certain factions became threatened, and monsters that were so keen on preying on humans were now unsure of who to target with the knowledge that some children possessed these amazing skills.

The bond between meisters and weapons were impossible to understand with the naked eye. The connection between souls, the balance of wavelengths, was so sacred and untouchable that it felt sacrilegious to discuss the matter unless you _were_ a meister or a weapon. In order for an individual meister to be bonded with a weapon, there were certain arrangements that needed to be made.

The most powerful of weapons, known simply as "Elites", were extremely choosy with their methods of picking their meisters, and their connections and powers were the most incredible of all. Very few of these weapons existed, and these were rare occurrences that were heavily documented when they actually happened, leading to corruption within the hearts of those who achieved fame through this exact method.

Elites were capable of many feats, transforming into the most dangerous of weapons that were previously unattainable through surgical means, which usually was a common request from "weaker" weapons who wanted to please their meisters by becoming stronger. They were misguided and foolish, and Elites usually found their positions to be valuable and far higher than what was originally accepted.

Elites were soon thought of as dangerous, especially with how easily corruptible they were with their dark desires and heavy greed. Lord Death, himself, saw to it that Elites were not permitted to enter his school in order to ensure the safety of his students, though he was oblivious to the fact that, even with their small numbers, Elites definitely existed.

Some were decidedly more lethal than others. With the growing number of meisters and less compatible Elites in society, it became more common to meet a weapon that was simply not destined to meet a partner. For the sake of the law appointed by Lord Death and his allies, the Council of Death Scythes, he made sure that they remained far from his school and his students.

Safety was the top priority at Shibusen.

Or, so most onlookers believed.

One thing that Shibusen forbade beyond all measures of laws was the desire for a weapon and his or her meister to be romantically linked. It made matters complicated, and supposedly complicated the soul wavelengths and led to corruption that could spawn demons and other horrendous creatures.

Even when the rule had been broken once before…

No one expected for the top student at Shibusen to take one of the greatest risks in her life and befriend a weapon that clearly had more power than she could ever contain.

And neither of them had any idea what would be in store for them in the long run…


	2. The Contract

**His Meister, Her Weapon**

* * *

 **Summary:** _Whether it was destiny or luck, she couldn't decide: a chance meeting, a demonic grin, an unbreakable contract and suddenly Maka's soul was no longer her own. – A darker retelling of Soul Eater –_

 **A/N:** _And here we go! Woot woot! And yes, I changed the summary, because I rewrote the little teaser piece and decided I liked the new version better. So yeah. Also a huge thank you to those who reviewed the prologue! It means a lot to me that you guys leave behind a comment/alert/favorite. Thanks so much!_

 _Hope you enjoy the first official chapter! Onwards!_

* * *

 **1**

The Contract

* * *

Maka Albarn _hated_ social events.

Her father insisted that she attend a conventional gathering between aspiring meisters and weapons seeking companionship with each other. After all, she was already pushing sixteen, and she still hadn't found (or accepted) any of the possible proposals brought to her attention. She would consider herself picky if it weren't for the outlandish offerings brought to her on metaphorical silver platters.

The biggest, indisputable problem she faced when looking for a weapon that could be interested in her, was the fact that her own _father_ —Spirit, the infamous Death Scythe—was the _sole reason_ the growing weapons wanted to form a partnership.

Maka grumbled, flipping through a local magazine with disinterest. She chose to ignore the popping of confetti and joyful screams of meisters and weapons meeting and greeting each other for the first time. She swore that she was the only person who attended Shibusen that was currently not spoken for with a partner. She didn't even have any _friends_ , really; her notable skills and impressing the professors came solely from her intense work ethic and big mouth.

She stroked the empty space of the wooden bench, staring blankly ahead. Weapons and meisters were meant to be allies, people that _understood_ each other… they weren't just people that connected physically; it had to be emotionally gratifying or at least an example of the two individuals exchanging more insight than just firsthand pleasantries.

She thought of Tsubaki and Black Star, two prominent and already quite powerful students at Shibusen that boasted strength and immense potential. Black Star himself was a rowdy and boisterous person, but Maka could understand how a patient and generally kind person like Tsubaki would be interested in becoming his ally.

Their friendship and bond as meister and weapon was the most palpable—and stable—that Maka had seen.

She wondered if she would _ever_ find a weapon to suit her mental needs. Either they wanted to meet her father in person and toss her to the side like yesterday's candy wrappers, _or_ she was a bit of a bitch and needed to tone down her level of scrutiny.

Both were undeniably accurate.

 _I can't be a meister without a weapon._ Her parents were perfect examples of a relationship that forged a powerful partnership; for Death's sake, her own _mother_ carried herself with pride and dignity and showcased her old skills on the battlefield by wielding her father's scythe form with ease.

They made it look so easy.

"Hey there babe, what's shakin'?"

Oh, just brilliant.

Maka closed the uninteresting collection of editorials she had in her hands, glaring venomously towards the brunette that dared talking to her. She could sense his soul for sure; he was a weapon, no doubt about it, just like all the others that wanted to flirt with her to get close enough to form a contract and meet her father. Sadly, this tactic actually _did_ work with some female meisters…

"Get lost," she muttered harshly. Before he could respond, she stood up, kicking him brutally in the shins before stalking off in the opposite direction.

Men were such _pigs_.

 _Just like Papa…_ she thought with disdain, sighing regrettably. She stopped, glancing around her at the massive crowd of Shibusen students and professors. She was sure there were a lot of interesting topics brewing in the air, but she wanted no part of it. It was a mistake to come here in the first place; despite her desire to become a meister, she couldn't without a weapon.

She couldn't without someone, a partner that she could _connect_ to.

 _This is just annoying now_. She sighed. How could she face the other students at school on Monday? She normally didn't even care about those things, but to be the possible only student at Shibusen without a weapon to accompany her side…

Was she not meant to be a meister?

No, she couldn't think like that. She was too stubborn to accept defeat in any way, even when it was so personal. She wanted more than anything to continue her studies at Shibusen and become someone who actually showed promise outside of her studying skills.

But she also wanted _more_ than just to obtain a partner and grow a powerful wavelength connection with the chosen person. She wanted to reach her father's reputation and surpass it, prove him wrong with statements he'd maid in the past about how hardly anyone could ever reach his rank. He was a Death Scythe, that was nothing new to her, but she believed that her work ethic could get her far with the right partner. She wanted to help her eventual weapon get much stronger, and maybe, just maybe, they could become the power team that showcased _another_ Death Scythe.

 _Beggars can't be choosers_. She thought over this bitterly. How far would she have to go just to meet some minimal expectations for a change that _didn't_ have anything to do with her studies?

Reading over a series of chapters at least fifty times was one thing, but this, _this_ was an entirely new task that no amount of books could help her with.

Maka was so lost in her thoughts that she almost missed the steady pulse that snaked through the convention center like an invisible serpent, grappling her senses and jerking an alert sensation into her bones.

She stopped, her heels digging fiercely into the tiled floors. She closed her eyes, wondering where the sudden impulse to stop came from. She steadied her breathing, realizing that her sensing was going off the charts… someone with an intelligent, _reckless_ essence was close by.

 _Very_ close.

For a solid five seconds, the world around her was vacant and silent. The colors of people, as they strode by, both meister and weapon, faded like watercolor into a nonsensical background.

She focused intently on what she heard… and blinked in surprise.

Music. She heard _music_.

Instinctively, as if entranced by a spell, she followed the melody. It wove through the convention center like a palpable thread, wrapped around her soul and beating in a slightly fractured wave. She wondered if the connection would continue to get stronger, and sure enough, the further she walked, the closer she felt to the source of the music… the beating became stronger, and the essence grew larger. This soul she sensed—it was energetic, lively. It was aggressive and strong and flawed, something unlike the other souls she had noticed in the open.

Eventually, she found herself stopping in front of a room with tall, polished oaken doors. The red color contrasted with the smaller rooms that clearly couldn't hold the radiant sound radiating from inside. It was slightly cracked open, and she glimpsed the thin red line that shot straight from the ceiling and into the ground, illuminated by soft, flickering golden light from the inside.

Cautiously, Maka pressed her palm to the door, gently pushing it open. Whoever the stranger was, she didn't want to disturb the haunting, radiant stream of harmonic sound from affecting those who walked by. She expected to see a grand audience within the private chamber, which was so large she was surprised she'd never noticed it before when she took a grand tour of Shibusen's campus as a twelve-year-old. Back then she would've been more afraid as well, though her curiosity was getting the best of her, and this link… this pulse, it was so strong, so scattered in its direction that she was amazed she was able to find it in the first place.

She swept her gaze past the alignments of stacked black chairs, the elegant red carpet, until her freckled green eyes landed on a single black piano… and the stranger exposing his talents in a way that was criminally private. Maka watched in wonderment as the music continued; if she weren't so eager to meet this person, she would've sat down and quietly listened, but it carried a certain body to it.

It was dark, solemn… the keys rippled into the air like a hot knife. The sound sliced into her cranium with beauty; a message of despair and tranquility, unable to meet and impossible to ignore.

She decided to be upfront. She walked steadily towards the stranger and the piano, her arms suddenly swinging behind her, fingers interlocking as she put on a simple, content smile.

"That was amazing."

The music abruptly stopped, and the perpetrator swiveled around on his seat to face her.

Maka didn't expect the stark frown that marred an otherwise chiseled and handsome face. She detected the slight revealing of sharp teeth poking the corner of his outer lip, one eyebrow risen. His skin was lightly tanned, contrasting brilliantly with his shock of white, tousled hair that rivaled the color of snow. He seemed young, definitely around her age, and his black, pinstriped suit made him more attractive in the long sense, yet it seemed uncomfortable on him… like he couldn't wait to be rid of it.

What took her by surprise the most were the startlingly intense, boiling hot crimson orbs that oozed liquid fire. They bled with contempt and the slightest flicker of curiosity as to why a stranger like her would interrupt his private recital; she noticed it like a candle flame. It was there one second, and in another flash it had disappeared.

Maka scratched the back of her head awkwardly. "Um… sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt, but…" How exactly _could_ she explain herself? She would sound like a stalker, like she already knew about him and his talents and where he was located without asking anyone… but there was no point in lying either, so she allowed herself to be honest. "I… this will sound weird." She sighed. "Brace yourself." He didn't look judgmental though, simply attentive. That was at least a little assuring. "I'm here for the meister and weapon convention that my papa made me attend, and I didn't feel any real connections with anyone, really, until I heard your music."

One heartbeat. Two heartbeats. Three.

And the stranger smirks, the slit of his mouth revealing a row of healthy razor-sharp teeth. He chuckled, shaking his head and turning away from her, cracking his knuckles as if he was preparing to resume play on the piano's rusty keys.

"What makes you think I'm a weapon of any sort?"

Maka frowned. "I know that you are. I felt your soul resonate with mine. I walked basically half a mile to find the source of the beats… and I found you in here, playing that music." She tilted her head to the side, pondering. "What's your name?" She smiled. "I'm Maka, in case you were wondering. Maka Albarn."

He shrugged, aloof and disinterested. His hands slithered into his pockets and he finally stood up from his chair, turning to face her directly once more. "Eh. They call me Soul."

Maka blinked at the irony of the situation. "That's kinda cool." She grinned. "I know this is a long shot, but I wanted to ask you if you were looking for a meister—"

"No."

His response was deadpan, and he glanced down at the keyboard, his smoldering eyes like pits of a calm volcano. They dwelled in silence, observing the keys of the piano quietly, though he did not look at Maka to see her surprised, yet slightly impressed, face.

"Good. That means I have to work for this." She cleared her throat, making him stare at her blankly. "My dream is to become the greatest meister that's ever lived, and to make my eventual partner the all-amazing Death Scythe, the greatest status of a weapon that can ever be reached. Just, you know, in case you were curious."

This man—Soul, apparently—looked more and more amused with each word she said. He shrugged, staring towards the ceiling of the auditorium with a furrowed brow, his lips suddenly drawing to a thin line.

"You think I would be a good match for you?"

Maka smiled broadly. "Yeah! As far as I can tell, you seem pretty interesting. And calm. I honestly need a balanced person like that in my life." She clasped her hands in front of her, resembling a ready-to-bounce rabbit. Her eyes practically sparkled, and the stranger's pupils dilated at this reaction.

She wondered if he expected to be wanted like this, and with each passing second she could see the rigidness in his face beginning to dissolve. But then, after a while his smirk returned, a little more sinister, a little more severe… like the curvatures of a bent sword or something just like it… Maka couldn't wrap her finger around the similarities, but it was there. It was _definitely_ there.

"You want to become my meister. A meister... my meister." He chuckled, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Oi, I didn't expect this…" He glanced at her, the smirk still there, still absorbing and dangerous. "You would have no idea what you're getting yourself involved with, you know. I'm not a good person."

Maka frowned. "People are flawed. That's how everyone is. I don't believe that anyone is truly a _good person_."

Her answer shocked him; she noticed the immediate difference in the way his body shifted, in the slight twitching of his brow.

She continued, glassing over thoughtfully. "But I'm not asking for a perfect weapon. I'm asking for a partner that I can learn to trust and grow with. Your music is amazing, and that song came from _you_ , right?" He stared at her, dipping his head only one inch to signify his response. She took it with ease. "Okay. Honesty is good too." She shrugged. "So, unless you're positively revolted in the idea of being an Albarn's partner, then I'll walk straight out that door and you'll never see me again." She smiled. "Cross my heart."

Soul slowly stepped closer to her, and she didn't back away from his willingness to bridge the gap between them. Her posture was rigid and tough and fierce, and he seemed to be more and more sure of his impending decisions with this girl, just from looking at the way she carried herself.

"Either you're incredibly stupid or stupidly brave, or a mixture of both." He flicked her nose. "But, eh, I guess I can comply to your wishes. It'd be cool to be a Death Scythe."

Maka blinked awkwardly at him, faintly touching the tip of her nose and feeling somewhat embarrassed by the childish action.

Soul smirked at her. "Here's the thing though, Maka," he started, grabbing her attention. "Weapons like me… and yeah, you were right after all, of course. I'm a weapon, and I'm not a weak one. I know how to handle myself." He paused. "I'm not stretching the truth when I say that working with me will be tough. It will be fucking _hard_. Some days will be so goddamn difficult you'll want to get rid of me in two seconds. But, here's the thing," he folded his arms across his chest, smug. "Once we become partners, there's no going back."

Maka frowned, piecing bits and fragments of information together from previous lectures at Shibusen, scouring through her textbooks through the deep, massive library that was her mind. She thought about meisters and weapons, wondering if those courses were actually going to help her with the current situation she was facing. She wanted Soul to be her partner—that was unmistakable, and judging by the fact that he was talking to her and actually negotiating made her believe that he wanted to be her weapon as well.

She wanted to seal a partnership with him. She'd been brash before; she'd made hasty decisions in the past, ignoring the scolding and the complaining and the constant advice given to her on how to _grow up_ and embrace what the impending adults had to say about her life. This very moment was one of the few aspects of being herself, being Maka Albarn, that would let her take complete control and never look back.

But then again… she thought about weapons, about meisters, about the hours and _hours_ she poured over books and chanced upon ancient stories about monsters and human-like creatures that had the personalities of real people, yet still blessed with amazing supernatural transformative abilities. Once unnamed, they were simply dubbed as "weapons", with no specific tagline, but there was one section about weapons that Lord Death was hesitant to let any of them know.

Not all weapons were the same, necessarily. And standing here, in front of a stranger with shocking white hair, the most absorbing crimson gaze that she had ever seen, and the pure soul-infused essence that poured into his music… he was not like the others at the convention; he was different. It wasn't just the way she felt when she was led to him.

"… What are you?" Maka whispered.

Soul's grin widened, and his shoulders shook with amusement. "Yeah, there you go. Thought you'd figure something out." He nodded, somehow comfortable with the direction of where this conversation was going. "I'm a cool son of a bitch, if that answers your question." Maka's eyes narrowed, already starting to lose her patience. "Cool your jets, honestly."

"You sounded so ominous, and then you ruined it with that one statement…" Maka sighed, folding her hands behind her head. "I don't know what I can say to make things seem more serious than they already are. I'm not joking about any of this—"

"Neither am I," Soul retorted, somewhat snapping. "Just wouldn't be fair telling you outright about who I am and _what_ I am. You know the important stuff, right?" He smirked. "So, settle with that for now. Who knows? I may tell you in the future." He seemed to reconsider those words only seconds after he said them, but he kept his mouth shut.

Maka's fists clenched, drooping at her sides. "Then tell me what I need to do to prove to you that I want to be your partner. I want you to know that I'm just as serious about this as anyone else. Even more so, actually!"

And then, his look changed dramatically. He looked much more interested than ever, the kind of greediness that only the most desperate of villains in old black-and-white movies could muster on the television screen.

"My kind of weapons… we form contracts." He studied her. "Unbreakable bonds shared between the meister and weapon. I can tell that you've got fire." She had plenty of it; he could see the magnetic tension of ferocity and surprising strength that dwelled within this tiny sixteen-year-old. He wondered just how powerful she would be when wielding him… "Remember," he warned, serious. "Once you agree to this, there's no turning back."

Maka didn't even hesitate: "I want to do this."

* * *

Soul decided that she was incredibly foolish. And stupid.

And yet, she was somehow enticing and stable and motivated in the most interesting directions that he'd seen in a long time. While pressured under the public eye for his tarnished image, he never encountered another person with a spitfire personality like this girl's. The convention center was not even an intentional occurrence, and he definitely didn't expect to be the way he was. He believed that if he wanted to be a rogue weapon his entire life, he could definitely do it.

But this girl… this Maka Albarn, detected his wavelength and followed the trail of music directly to him. That, in itself, had never happened before. She would have to come to understand the grueling nature of his appetite and how their possible partnership would pan out.

She still wanted this. He couldn't believe it, but she did.

He concentrated firmly on her face, observing her quietly while she still stuck her attention entirely on his eyes. She was slender and seemed balanced beneath her clothing; he imagined her as an angry bull charging through a massive forest with horns slicing down trees left and right. It stuck there, and he couldn't help but chuckle in amusement with himself. Her face was round, puckered with a childish mask of mannerisms that he swore had to be fake, otherwise he had no idea (other than the bull image) how this girl could strike fear into anybody's hearts.

He felt… like this was a real thing, and it was going to happen, regardless of how he felt now. She was gutsy and intriguing and he felt connected to her on a separate level as well. Their wavelengths were definitely compatible; he wondered what the color of hers would be, what it would taste like if he managed to absorb her power in the middle of their sixteenth or six-hundredth battle… would she let him?

He closed his eyes. He knew what needed to be done.

"There's a process to this," he whispered suddenly, breaking her concentration. He watched her eyelids flutter in surprise at the disruption of the silence shared between them. They were already feeling more comfortable in each other's presence… it surprised him a little. "You're going to have to trust me in order to let me form the bond between us, as meister and weapon."

"We don't just shake hands?" Maka asked incredulously, flabbergasted. "I see it happen all the time. There's a handshake, an exchange of words… it's never more than that."

He blinked slowly. "Did you forget the fact that I told you I'm quite different from other weapons? I have my own methods." He was serious. "Trust me."

* * *

And so, she did, but it wasn't what she expected. Within two seconds that she could naturally find herself unable to comprehend, her wrists were snatched away from her sides, grappled tightly by this man she'd just met, and his left hand smoothly slid to the small of her back. His right hand found the nape of her neck, their closeness sending shivers down her spine; an electric shock that distracted even from the spearmint scent of his hair and the near-predatory grin splashed across his handsome mouth.

"What… are you—"

He silenced her, pressing his lips firmly and _roughly_ against her own. She hung there, surprised and bewildered and paralyzed beyond belief, as the single strangest sensation she'd ever felt began circulating through her entire body. His grip on her was strong and naturally protective, a possible signature for what their companionship would be like.

He broke contact with her, watching her steadily. She hissed in pain, shoving her hands against his chest and backing away, absolutely mortified at what had just happened. She blinked, frowning at the strange bubbling under her skin, pawing for the source of it and realizing that this must have been the work of the apparent _pervert_ that happened to play the most beautiful music she'd ever heard in her life of sixteen years.

Her fingers stroked the strange marking just above her left breast, the burn definitely real. It surfaced there after their kiss—she was pissed off beyond belief since he gave no warning to an interaction like that—and she felt the subtle reaction of being _joined_ with another soul gradually pulse through her body. The marking… she'd never seen anything like it; she could barely make out what it was from her awkward crook-necked angle, but she reminded herself that she would have to look at it later.

"It's a symbol of our contract," Soul stated briskly, wiping his mouth as if he was disgusted by their rather forced and uncomfortable intimate interaction. His nose wrinkled, yet he, too, seemed to relish the newfound connection and instant bonding between their energetic, writhing essences. Maka was undoubtedly feeling the onslaught of both of what they were experiencing. "As long as that mark is on you, our partnership is active. You can never be in partnership with another weapon as long as that marking emblazes your skin." He shrugged, and his mask of boredom returned. "Don't gawk at it like it's an amazing spectacle. It'll only feel weird for a few days. You'll be used to it in no time."

Maka slowly lifted her head. What… had she gotten herself into? An unbreakable pact; she had just sold her entire being to this man. And yet, she knew she would have to make the most of it. What she said was true, and he didn't seem to be entirely malicious… other than the fact that the bastard stole her first kiss.

The fucking nerve of men!

"One thing," Maka hissed, glaring intensely towards him. Soul blinked at the sudden rise in aggression. "If you _ever_ touch me like that again, I will wring your neck with your own ripped-out tongue. Are we clear?"

He would've laughed if she didn't look so damn serious. "Uh… right. You have nothing to worry about." He casually placed his hand on her head, ruffling the dishwater blonde strands with an amused, crooked smile. "I'm not attracted to girls with your chest size."

Maka gaped at him in disbelief. "You… you _did not just_ —," but he was already at the doors, beckoning for her to follow.

"Come on. I'm not going to wait for you all day."

Oh, Lord Death have mercy on her soul…


	3. What's Expected

**His Meister, Her Weapon**

* * *

 **Summary:** _Whether it was destiny or luck, she couldn't decide: a chance meeting, a demonic grin, an unbreakable contract and suddenly Maka's soul was no longer her own. – A darker retelling of Soul Eater –_

 **A/N:** _Wow! Thank you so much for the response of over the last couple of chapters guys! I really appreciate the love and constructive criticism when offered! Don't be afraid to ask questions; I've been trying to respond to the reviews as soon as they come up._

* * *

 **2**

What's Expected 

* * *

The streets of Death City were draped in silence.

A lone figure dwelt amongst the shadows. The shape welded into the darkness, a figment of imaginary delusion beneath the laughing moon. A pair of tantalizing, piercing golden orbs for eyes were observing the cobbled grounds below, the occasional flickering of light bulbs causing a distraction.

The dense light brought attention to the desperately fleeing form of a human—alone, clearly inebriated, his laughter swallowed by the narrow buildings, like animals waiting for prey.

The human was a scruffy, middle-aged male, his beard soaked with alcohol, his clothes barely resembling any form of class. Fifteen yards ahead of him, the shadows of nightfall divided, revealing the lone form of a young stranger. Wisps of lavender hair—cut cleanly just above the shoulders—rested just above a set of bony shoulders. A frown that seemed permanently plastered onto pale, formerly gentle features framed the remainder of their face. The stranger would've looked pleasant and kind if it were not for the dread that overshadowed their entire being.

The human squinted, slurring his words as he struggled to raise an accusatory finger. "Y-You… what're you doin', _punk_?" He then burst into laughter, a fool among fools. He was a guaranteed, easy kill.

The figure atop the buildings watched the spectacle below, a smirk that sliced through the darkness rivaling the sharpness of a blade.

The stranger with purple hair sauntered forward, but hobbled, like a toddler freshly striding into the open world. Long, lanky arms and a silhouette cloaked in black velvet betrayed the poignancy of fear and desperation that hovered over them like a cloud.

The drunken man was too distracted by his own misfortunes—the events of his evening shrouding his conscious thoughts—to notice the inevitable danger he was in. He failed to acknowledge the gruesome, hideously abnormal _creature_ spring up from the body of the stranger… like an extra limb it sprouted its own arms, flashing a twisted smile of huge teeth, a slick tongue lapping its lips like that of a hungry bulldog.

"Come on you stupid idiot! We have a perfect target!"

The stranger trembled, yet slowly nodded.

Up atop the buildings, the fellow shadow that clung to his very decision seemed to smirk, a sinister grin of pride and expectations falling short of villainy.

The purple-haired stranger—the gender balancing between male and female from the distance between them and the unfortunate drunken man—closed their eyes, and the sickening coils of energy surged through their veins. A strange power bubbled beneath their alabaster skin, sending shivers of simultaneous vicious excitement and temperament pulsing through the connection they formed with the black, liquefying creature bursting from their back.

 _Make your mother proud. Kill him._

The stranger's eyes flashed from the direct order leaking into their subconscious. The creature on their back morphed into their flesh, circulating in unison with the black clothing until forming the shape of a long, black sword. A mouth appeared at the very hilt of the blade, cackling in mischief and anticipation.

The drunken man groaned in exhaustion, dropping to his knees. The impact scraped his skin, but he ignored it; his brain was fuzzy, consumed with a newfound loss of energy that sapped him of any desire to continue further. He must have been seeing things…

"Kill him, Crona! Kill him kill him! Feed me! Let's take his soul and _enjoy it_!" The blade laughed maniacally, and its host seemed to hesitate at first, but the words that rang in their mind just seconds prior tempted them further.

In a burst of speed, they rushed forward, the blade strung out to their side in an expert stance.

There was no scream of shock that erupted from their first victim. The kill was too clean, too precise, and far too _perfect_ , and the showering of scarlet droplets at the first impacting swipe was just as satisfying to the private onlooker as expected. The feminine shape slowly stood up, the same gratifying smile etched onto unknown features. The flashing golden eyes were more narrowed, more intense, as they oversaw the _gorgeous_ whiplash-fast killing.

 _So talented, my child. You will become the most grand vessel of power in due time._

The body had crumpled to the ground like a sack of vegetables. The killer's eyes were wide, as if not expecting the gore that took place—the amount of blood… the color was odd on its own; it was so _red_ , identical to the color of rain-soaked roses. Such flowers had only been seen in their dreams, and most of the time those visions would be removed by the hand of their mother.

The massive gash scored into the corpse was wide enough to release a ball of light. The orb slowly rose to the killer's eye level, instantly drawing an immense sense of hunger and longing. The blade morphed back through the body of its host and loomed overhead, jaws unhinging like that of a python's and eagerly swallowing the glowing sphere.

 _Enjoy the taste?_

Their mother's voice echoed so soothingly… it was times like this that made her child want to please her more. They were brought out here to test their abilities, to become familiar with the vibrant, glorious flavors of a soul, and now, they knew it.

 _There will be much more to come, my child. Just you wait._

"I don't know how I should react to this…" The quivering voice betrayed the intense amount of power that the murderer possessed, but their mother knew better. They expected a sharp scolding, but nothing came. "M-Mother—"

 _Look at your progress. You are already forming immense progress. Remember this moment, remember the taste of your first soul… you've now bloodied your hands. You are no longer innocent, Crona. You were born for this purpose, to be the strongest you can ever be._

* * *

 **... One Week Later ...**

* * *

The first class of the day was _Meister & Weapon Tactics and Demonstrations_.

It was the only class that didn't require any textbooks whatsoever, and the only one that Maka suspected would grant her plenty of problems. It'd only been one week since she'd finally become bonded with a weapon, and today would be the first time she'd see him transform into the shape that she would eventually expect during confrontation. Since this class was specifically reserved for returning or freshman students on a schedule that followed the conventional gathering, it was expected to be a graded assembly of sorts.

Any "class" without a desk was not one of Maka's favor.

The crowd was too large, too blended together for her to focus. Perspiration stained her skin; she insisted that she was only sweating because of determination, rather than nervousness. When she surveyed the other students, she spotted several worthy candidates that posed as a possible threat to her through the physical examinations that had nothing to do with textbooks—people other than Ox Ford, who served as her most lethal rival when it came to written tests.

She spotted so many tall, strong, well-built and muscular meisters and their equally formidable weapons. She suddenly felt smaller than the rest, as if destined for failure. Her eyes flashed when she spotted the familiar tall frame of Tsubaki, the "infamous" Black Star's talented weapon. She had more than one transformation, which made her a lot more capable and flexible during battle, and Black Star always boasted how lucky he was to have a weapon like her to be his partner.

They would undoubtedly be the expected examples for first-time partners like Maka and Soul.

"You _can't_ be seriously intimidated by these chumps," Soul said casually, grinning beside her. He was dressed in a zip-up hoodie and sporting an odd headband that Maka didn't expect to see him wear, and his lazy demeanor and attitude just didn't match the image of him in his suit the first day they met at the convention. "Come on, _partner_ , we'll clearly prove that we belong here."

Maka rolled her eyes. "Hope you're right." She was rubbing her thumbs together in anxiety, hoping and praying that she would not embarrass herself in front of probably the biggest class audience she'd seen yet.

"Trust me," Soul started, "they will be _blown away_. If grades are what you're worried about, Short-stack, you'll get a fucking A, no sweat." His cockiness was rolling off him in waves, and Maka wished she could snatch some out of the air.

"Again, hope you're right," she grumbled.

"Attention everyone, both meisters and weapons alike!" Maka snapped her attention to the front of the room, where the tall, lithe form of Lord Death, the headmaster of Shibusen Academy, stood with pride gleaming on his skull mask. "It's quite lovely seeing you all here today, with your bright, curious faces and such. It's been a successful year for the convention! I've heard amazing news from all new meisters and weapons, which, of course, only brings me joy!"

Lord Death, despite his namesake, was quite the lovely one.

Beside him was a teenaged student that Maka didn't recognize. He held himself with clear authority, his shoulders rigid and taut. His clothes consisted of a black button-up jacket with exactly three golden buttons, black pants, and matching shoes. His hair was jet-black, coordinating perfectly with Lord Death's cloak, and a triplet pattern of white stripes slashed through the strands on the left side. His eyes were almost feline in nature; almond-shaped, crisp and the color of wheat.

"This is Death the Kidd, my son and eventual student of the academy. He will provide a first-rate demonstration of how a meister and weapon should act in the face of battle. Remember, after this demonstration, the assembly will consist of each meister and weapon showcasing their skills and their connectivity. Your grade will be based on how well you coordinate yourselves!"

Maka blinked in awe. _This_ … this guy was Lord Death's son? It would explain the color coordination and the way he carried himself, like he was destined to own the place someday…

"Whatever," came an annoyed masculine voice, and Maka and Soul turned to look at the offender: Black Star, with his usual fist-pumping motion and rippling blue hair. He was smiling arrogantly, and his own weapon looked particularly nervous for the sudden attention, but he kept talking. "Show us your stuff, teacher's pet! I bet you can't out-perform the almighty _god_ that is ME, _Black Star_!"

Lord Death paused at this outburst… and then proceeded to ignore him completely, addressing the entire crowd once more. "My son will begin his demonstration, so clear the stage and we shall begin!"

The crowd bustled and moved erratically. Maka and her partner were pushed to the opposite side of the room. They were squished between other tall meisters and weapons, and Maka felt goose bumps spring up on her flesh, her attention completely focused on the son of their headmaster.

She was so ready to learn how to be the best meister she could be. And it would all start here, she could feel it.

Soul raised an eyebrow, his chin resting on the upturned palm of his hand. He did not look impressed one bit. "He's strong, but that's all there is to it. Nothing too special about him." He smirked, closing his eyes knowingly.

Maka sighed in annoyance. "He just might shut you up, Soul."

"Think I know what I'm talking about, Tiny Tits."

"Is this really the time for that _damn nickname_ —"

"Liz! Patti!"

Maka whipped around, and she was awed at the dramatic presence of Kidd's weapons—a pair of identical revolvers, immediately changing into the forms of two attractive girls. One was tall and had long brown hair, while the other was shorter and slightly bustier, with cropped blonde hair and a broad smile overtaking her childish face.

Kidd nodded his head, as if concentrating. "You both know what to do." The girls nodded, and once the ground erupted, the crowd erupted into cheers of excitement. Shadowed forms of what were presumably monsters were elevated to the surface; nothing but weak target dummies, but it was good enough for the assembly.

Maka watched in perplexed awe as the son of Lord Death effortlessly skated around the stage with the transformed revolvers, blasting orbs of energy while he showcased excellent athleticism and poise. He was so precise with his targets, knocking down moving dummies—each one made of nothing but metal and wood—and by the time he was done he landed precisely on his feet. Not a single scratch was on his clothes, his guns twirling stylishly in his gloved hands.

Total silence enveloped the room for about twelve seconds, until it abruptly exploded into applauds. Maka could see girls practically frothing at the mouth from such a display of "majesty", as they put it, and she felt her fingers curl into her palms. Her fists clenched, energy circulating through her blood.

Her anxiety traveled through the wavelength she now shared with Soul. He didn't turn to look at her, but his eyes fixated on her rigid posture and fiery gaze. He chuckled quietly, amused at her constant desire to be better. Maybe it was one of the reasons he was drawn to her. He couldn't deny that this _Death the Kidd_ fellow was talented, but he was Soul Eater.

He would make him fucking _eat_ those princess guns he called "weapons".

"We'll bring the house down, Maka," Soul whispered. She blinked in surprise and turned to him. "Don't screw anything up, Pigtails, and we'll be the best ones here."

Maka frowned, dipping her head. She was still learning how to trust him completely, but it was hard not to in some way. His confidence drifted through their connected wavelength, and she grinned in gratitude at his expectations of her.

He believed she could make them look _great_. And for her, that was enough.

What followed was a series of occasional blunders, stellar representations of power, and even the usual "mediocre" performance that left the viewers underwhelmed. Soul and Maka were almost last to be picked, and when the time came, Maka felt her skin liven with bumps once more, the anxiety starting to return.

Lord Death and his son were standing on a separate pedestal, observing the demonstrations below with blank expressions. Soul and Maka walked up to the middle of the room. Silence fell upon the stadium, and the two freshman partners were feeling the burning stares of every other classmate in the area.

Maka picked up the whispers instantly.

" _Hey, isn't that…?"_

" _That's the Death Scythe's daughter! Maka Albarn!"_

" _She found a partner? I thought no one wanted her!"_

" _I saw her walk away from like fifteen different offers. She thinks she's too good for a lot of 'em."_

" _Yeah, what a snobby bitch."_

 _"So overrated!"_

" _Her partner is super hot, though... like, damn."_

" _I agree! He's such a catch!"_

Maka twitched at the last couple of comments, groaning in misery. She exhaled slowly, staring up at Lord Death with a small smile.

Soul glanced at her with a risen eyebrow. _Man._ Her acting skills were pretty impressive, since he could sense her nervousness crackling like a fresh batch of popcorn.

"My name is Maka Albarn and this is my partner, Soul Eater Evans." Her brow furrowed in determination, and she glanced at Soul expectantly. He smirked, nodding in response, letting her know that he was ready for anything. "And this is our demonstration."

It was the first time Maka would wield Soul as a weapon, and she knew it would also be the first time she would see him in his transformative form _at all_. He told her a couple of days after they first bonded that he was a "unique" type, and that there were many others that wished they could display his abilities and prowess.

And she knew what he meant now. A flash of white energy, a startling surge of power that coursed through her blood, and now she held a massive, brilliant black and red _scythe_ in her gloved hands. She instantly felt a sharp connection, almost laughing at the irony.

 _Of course_ she would become bonded with a Demon Scythe Weapon! Perhaps her role as the daughter of Spirit Albarn played more to her fate than she realized.

A gasp of surprise erupted amongst the audience, and Lord Death himself looked taken aback at the realization that a Demon Scythe Weapon was in their presence—one of the rarest and most notorious.

Maka twirled the shifted form of Soul effortlessly in her hands, and she was ready.

She was an amateur at this, and this demonstration would undoubtedly be imperfect, but _man_ , she was _so ready_.

"Let's show 'em what we're made of, partner," Soul echoed.

Maka nodded. "Let's."

The dummies used in every other demonstration were reformed with ease, slapped directly back in their programmed positions. Trusting the part of herself that relied entirely on her newfound wielding of her partner in his weapon form, they rolled with whatever instinct was given to her subconscious.

* * *

"They're really good for never doing this before… it's like it's completely natural," Tsubaki whispered, smiling graciously.

She turned to her meister, who seemed more than a bit shocked at the display of abilities in front of them. His arms were crossed and his eyes were wide, his mouth slightly hanging open, but Tsubaki knew better than anyone that he would rather hurl himself off a cliff than acknowledge the "greatness" of a possible rival.

Black Star's jaw set into a frown. "Tsubaki, we have to challenge them later today."

His weapon blinked, perplexed. "Black Star." She frowned, willing him to look at her through their wavelength, but even then, he refused to turn in her direction. She sighed; his stubbornness was remarkable at times. Even with the bustling crowd around them and the claustrophobic shivers running up her spine, she didn't feel the need to leave. They weren't even required to be here—they had attended this assembly the year prior, just after the convention where they had met as well.

"I want to see how they fight when no one's watching," Black Star continued, smirking in anticipation as he cracked his knuckles. "We'll show 'em how it's _really_ done, eh, Tsubaki?" He smiled widely at her, and she couldn't help but return the gesture. "It'll be grand! I'll have a chance to show these noobs my first-rate godly appeal! They'll be blown away just by my magnificence!" He laughed, ignoring the irritated glares cast in his direction.

"I'm sure it will be," Tsubaki replied. She fixed her attention on the fight, observing from a more technical standpoint.

She'd heard of Maka Albarn before. The girl was always a hard worker, always striving for better things, and even when this was the first time she'd ever been partnered with a weapon, Tsubaki knew that it wasn't _totally_ unbelievable that she could wield a Demon Scythe… she was athletic; or, at least, Tsubaki and other girls had seen Albarn do extra running drills, on top of sessions in the gym, doing nothing but slugging punching bags as hard and as fast as her tiny body would allow. Those things _alone_ impressed Tsubaki.

As far as she was concerned, she definitely had respect for her. For a long time, she'd considered meeting her, but until now she realized that Maka was probably like any other first-time initiate in this class assembly, grooming herself for possibilities that others would consider to be too outlandish to reach for.

 _You're interesting, Maka_ , Tsubaki thought, her lips set in a thin line. _But your weapon…_

There was something… not quite _right_ , about the Demon Scythe.

Sometimes Tsubaki could sense certain emotions radiating from fellow weapons—a skill that most weapons with the ability to shape-shift into other forms had—and there was definitely something different about Albarn's partner.

The Demon Scythe was _immensely_ powerful, that was for sure. She could hear the groans of admiration and envy from the crowd, from meisters and weapons alike. They all wished they could either be Maka or get rid of her in order to form a companionship with this "Soul Eater" character themselves. It was greedy and selfish and she was glad that neither she nor Black Star had those sick desires.

But still…

"Black Star."

"Eh?" The meister looked at her with a risen eyebrow.

"Do you sense something not quite right about Maka Albarn's weapon?"

Her meister frowned at this question, and looked focused for a solid two seconds before he flashed yet another clueless smile and declared: "He's a mangy dog beast and we'll take 'em down with no problem, my trusty partner!"

Tsubaki sighed, a fond smile overtaking her features. He was an airhead sometimes… but she still treasured him greatly.

But that only served as a minimal distraction between her and the fiasco in front of her.

* * *

The last dummy was vanquished with a quick sweeping of the scythe, and Maka was shaking with her expended energy. She shook her head, standing straight up and holding her arm out, where the weapon transformed directly back into the human appearance of Soul Evans.

She was _tired_.

Lord Death was silent after their display. It was one of the longest ones of the day, barely scraping nine minutes total, and yet the quietness that overtook the crowd once they finished was too poignant to ignore.

Maka gnawed on her lip, clearly nervous. Again.

Soul's hands were hanging out of his jacket pockets, as if nothing had just happened. He was quite pleased with himself, and he knew that their connection would be easy. Despite her occasional resistance of him and their incessant arguing that he swore would give him high blood pressure… she was strong, and the mark he imprinted upon her skin would not be tarnished with reluctance.

He picked a good one.

"… Interesting, demonstration, Maka and Soul." Lord Death nodded. "I will give you your feedback personally in my office this afternoon." His tone livened up considerably with his next choice of words: "as for the entire performances today, excellent demonstrations from every single one of you! I am quite impressed and looking forward to the new students here at Shibusen. You will receive your grades on your final report card of the term as expected. Other professors will see to that personally, so don't get too anxious!" He leaned down to whisper something to his son, who nodded in return. "You are all dismissed!"

* * *

"Why are you mad? We did fucking great!" Soul growled, his teeth grinding in irritation as he glanced over the clearly annoyed form of his meister. She was biting ferociously into her sandwich, ignoring him on every possible level. "You're going to get an A, _Tiny Tits_ , so don't worry so much." He turned away from her, staring at his tray of untouched pudding and six stacked grilled cheese sandwiches.

She continued ignoring him, setting down her sandwich carefully and casting him a sharp glare. He blinked at the gesture, ready to bite into his own food. "Do you _really_ want to know, you _idiot_? Lord Death is calling us into his office later today! That means we must've done something wrong!" She groaned, aggravated. "And during the demonstration…" She trailed off, as if distracted.

Soul swallowed, his first sandwich already gone as he moved to his next one. He noticed her silence, quirking an eyebrow. "What?" She was blocking her soul wavelength from him, which was something she practiced only twenty or so minutes after they met, and he hated that it was becoming a habit whenever she was angry with him. "Fine. Don't tell me. I don't fucking care." He grumpily—and viciously—devoured his food without looking towards her again, but Maka's mind was elsewhere.

She thought back to the stadium, to the fleeting moment of wielding a Demon Scythe… she had bonded herself to a man who came from an intense, powerful race of Demon Weapons. Scythes, especially, were rare and notoriously power-hungry. She wondered if he would try and seize control in the future endeavors of their partnership, similar to what he did back there… she felt the control slip from her at times. One moment, a dummy was moving too close and she didn't notice it, and her weapon would move against her will and block the incoming movement.

She should've been thankful, but… She was the _meister._ Wasn't it her job to wield _him_ , not the other way around?

She glanced at him, pondering. He was more relaxed now, his posture far less rigid than the first time she mentioned the school to him at the convention center. She realized during their first couple of conversations that he was generally laidback and a bit selfish, but that was expected.

They had an odd companionship, but she didn't know how she felt completely about him yet.

She thought this even when she knew that they, without a doubt, connected on a level that was positively _euphoric_. She moved so fluidly on the stage during the assembly, so _one_ with Soul, like she was meant to wield him specifically.

"If you want to learn how to trust me, you can't keep blocking the wavelength," Soul muttered darkly. His arms were folded on the table; his tray pushed out in front of him with little interest, especially since he'd already wiped it clean of his food. "That's part of this deal, Maka."

Maka sighed. "Listen." She turned to him seriously. "How did you…" Her brow furrowed the more she thought about this. "How did you do that?"

He rolled his eyes. "Do what?"

She scoffed. "Oh _please_ , don't play dumb. You _know_ what you did," she accused. "During that demonstration, I felt something _shift_ in my control. That's not normally supposed to happen. I've done my research, like all the other learning meisters here."

Soul was silent, but he didn't deny her words. A few moments passed, and Maka wondered if he was going to say anything at all, until he finally pinched the bridge of his nose and released a frustrated _grunt_ before turning to face her head-on.

"You're gonna have to trust me when we fight real monsters and we're expected to kill _real things_." Maka frowned, gesturing for him to continue. "Part of the whole fucking point of having a _partnership_ with a Demon Weapon in the first place is to have _trust_ in each other. You weren't paying attention, so I reached out further and defended you. It's more your fault than mine."

She knew it. "In a real battle, I don't want you to worry about me!" She grit her teeth. This guy had his nose higher in the clouds than any other blimp-sized egomaniac she could think of. "Like you said, it's supposed to be _equal_ , so naturally I'd expect for us to be on the same page. I'm your meister, so it's my job to help with protecting you—"

"You have it completely backwards, you goddamn idiot." His words were as slick as ice, and the irritation caked his features with ease. Maka shut her mouth, rage building up inside her, but she decided to let him have his word; she would get her chance when they were alone and not on school grounds. "I'm your partner, your _weapon_ , and it's my primary duty—hell, it's _instinct_ —to protect _you_ , no matter what the circumstance. If we're in the middle of a fight and we're fucking losing, I expect you to stash away your 'Albarn pride', pick up your sorry puny ass and get the hell out of there."

Maka blinked, frustrated. "It should be equal—"

" _I know my place_ ," Soul hissed, cutting her off. He stood up, bristling with rage. "You should know _yours_ , as my meister, as my partner…" he trailed off, his eyes lowering towards the spot through her clothes where his mark—his clear indication that she belonged in a contract with _him_ —still shone like a beacon. She never revealed it, and he supposed that this was an intelligent move, but still, it wasn't like she could ignore it's existence. "To be blunt, Maka, you're stuck with me. So listen to what I'm saying because the rules aren't gonna change."

He expected her to be angrier. He expected her to stand up and scream and cuss him out like there was no tomorrow. After all, he embraced himself for the worst. But instead, she turned away from him, calmly took another bite of her sandwich, and folded her hands neatly in her lap as if they never had this discussion.

"I'm not going to fight about this with you right now," she whispered sullenly. She would not let him have control. No matter what he spouted in his moments of frustration with her, she had too much will to bend to his desires.

He was about to respond when another voice interrupted their quarrel: "Hey, _Albarn_! Soul Eater!"

Maka blanched in shock, glancing over to the form of Black Star, who was grinning from ear to ear with the clear intention to _hurt something_. It caused his eyes to brighten up with expectations, and Tsubaki was beside him, looking a little embarrassed at how he was handling their confrontation.

"Black Star—"

"Tsubaki and I are the greatest pair of meister and weapon here at Shibusen! And soon we'll reach a status that is reserved by gods!" Black Star puffed out his chest, laughing and indulging in his own fortune. Soul stared blankly at him, slowly raising an eyebrow and smirking in amusement at this weirdo with blue hair. "And… we wanna challenge you. Here on school grounds, after the last class of the day. So, yeah. Simple enough, eh?"

Maka was starting to panic. _What should I say? They're talking to us, to me, oh my god, oh Death, what do I say?!_

Black Star pounded his fists together, smirking. "You chumps better be ready because we're not gonna show any mercy."

Maka stood up, sweat dotting the nape of her neck. She grasped Soul's shoulder, desperation dripping from her voice: "S-Soul, we should—"

"You're on," Soul replied smoothly, his grin widening. His shark teeth were just as expectantly vicious as before, and he looked more than happy to agree to a brawl of all things. He shook hands with Black Star, and Maka wanted to scream at this crazy arrangement.

"I-I didn't agree to anything—"

"Fan- _tastic_! Tsubaki and I will be waiting!"

Soul grinned, waving casually as the two walked away from them. He smirked cruelly towards Maka, knowing exactly what he had sealed for them both. His new meister's eyebrow was twitching furiously, her skin flushed with seething anger. "You'll thank me for this later, Short-stack," he said, chuckling. "It calls for good experience."

Maka sputtered. "Y-You—you don't even know who they _are_!"

"Who cares?" Soul cocked an eyebrow. "They're just another meister and weapon. No difference between our partnership and theirs in any way whatsoever." He smirked, coming closer to her and lifting her chin up with his finger. He grinned at the slightest blush that tinted her cheeks, before she swatted his hand away and stepped back in defiance. "We'll take 'em down. Easy. Besides, all this anger you feel towards me, you can spend on them."

His meister bristled. "Whatever." She sighed in exasperation. "We're going to get destroyed." She couldn't believe this. Of all her luck… her weapon just screwed her over. He did it out of pure spite, and she knew it.

Soul stared at her quietly, observing the growing friction in their connection. She was so angry with him, so concerned about what they were going to face… she could deal with it as far as he was concerned. He knew that she was strong enough to take those two overrated students. He liked that they were challenged—he would make sure that they came out on top.

"You need to learn to trust me."

Maka looked up. "Then don't take over during a fight without discussing with me first." Her gaze hardened considerably. "This goes both ways. Don't shut me out." She folded her arms underneath her chest. "I want us to train more together, so we can get used to each other's connection. After school, before school, whatever. We both want to get stronger, and even if we're going to face Black Star and Tsubaki… there's always a way to get better." Her partner's expression remained unchanged, but she continued anyway. "Can I trust you to agree to that?"

Soul frowned, pondering. "… Fine." He sighed, rolling his eyes. "Don't get too dramatic on me, Pigtails."

He knew that this was only the beginning.

* * *

 **That was fun to write. :) I hope you all enjoyed this chapter! Please be sure to check out the other Soul Eater fics if your heart desires. Also, there's a poll on my profile if you're interested in voting!**

 **Thanks for your time and PLEASE drop a review! I'd really appreciate it. Thank you guys so much! You're awesome.**

 **Until next time!**

 **\- Sulfur Dusk**


	4. Breaking the Ice

**His Meister, Her Weapon**

* * *

 **Summary:** _Whether it was destiny or luck, she couldn't decide: a chance meeting, a demonic grin, an unbreakable contract and suddenly Maka's soul was no longer her own. – A darker retelling of Soul Eater –_

 **A/N:** _Thanks so much everyone for the reviews/alerts/favorites! I really appreciate the feedback and the general interest in this story. Here's the next chapter! In the meantime, I'm working on a side project (undisclosed) that may or may not get published, but the other stories are in top priority. I might take down Only Mine for revisionary purposes, but that's still up to debate._

 _Enjoy this next chapter! Thanks so much you guys! :)_

* * *

 **3**

Breaking the Ice

* * *

"They might not even show up. Pft, cowards…"

Tsubaki admonished her meister, frowning accordingly. "They could just be late, Black Star. Your request was definitely… forward," she said quietly. The contemplative weapon was leaning against one of several outcropped balcony railings, her fingers flexing every now and then as she tested the area with her senses. She would attempt to trace the radiating soul of the Demon Scythe and Albarn whenever she felt that they would be close, and besides, it was good practice for her.

Of all the times she and Black Star would nearly fail in the midst of battle, it would be mostly due to their poor timing. She had better calculations and flexibility than Black Star, while his physical prowess far surpassed hers and, in general, was _off the charts_ , proven solely with his results in the training room. She considered this upcoming sparring match as an opportunity to branch off and make her own personal record. And, as usual, her meister would be just as proud of her as he would himself—something only she could detect, and the thought of it made her smile.

She could feel Black Star's anxiety circulating through their wavelength. "Try to remain calm, Black Star," she whispered, concentrating. "I'm confident that we can demonstrate our abilities in a timely manner."

"They won't stand a chance, Tsubaki," Black Star continued, grinning daggers. He flexed his biceps, waiting eagerly for the chance to spar with the Demon Scythe. Ever since Soul Evans walked onto campus with his considerable slouch and disinterest with the world, Tsubaki's meister was determined to test his wiles in battle.

It was amusing—and admirable—for her to watch.

* * *

 **~ 000 ~**

* * *

By the time the last bell rung, Maka struggled keeping her focus intact. Her stomach was resting hollowly, her skin studded with bullets of sweat. Every now and then she would catch the curious onlooker, wondering how the normally composed and confident daughter of Spirit Albarn could be so anxious.

But heading with armed wits and intelligence into a room where she would demonstrate her mental abilities on a written form of a test was entirely different to what she was about to be forced to do.

Her books were held stiffly against her chest, refusing to look at anyone in particular. She stopped, her heels digging into the ground as she surveyed the silhouette of her weapon. Soul, as he said he would, was positioned right by the door to the balcony where they would meet the ever-popular Black Star and Tsubaki for a last-minute "test of strength and godliness". He was biting the fingernails of his right hand, his narrowed eyes focused on opposite wall, as if engaged in a staring contest. One leg was crossed over the other, his shoulders pushed into a lazy slouch.

He looked exactly as Maka expected him to.

Maka groaned in misery, wondering how she could've allowed herself to be roped into this, but she knew that she wasn't weak. With whatever would happen, she needed to believe that they could do this, even when logic stared down at them and laughed.

"I hope this is worth it," she stated sharply, instantly snatching his attention. Soul looked up, grinning at her smugly and shrugging.

"We'll see, won't we?" He sized her up, amused. "You look like you're ready to scream."

She glared hotly. "Believe me, I'm not going to waste _all_ of my energy on them. You're not going to be exempt from this." She was still _ticked off_ for what he did… agreeing to Black Star's last-minute proposal was out of the question or her, especially since she'd only started wielding Soul in his weapon form _that exact morning_.

"We'll be fine, Tiny Ti—"

She silenced him with a resounding _thwack_ of her books against his cranium. Cradling his head in shock and staring at her as if she'd grown another head, he couldn't have looked angrier if someone spat in his cereal.

" _Maka_ —"

"If you even _try_ to say another word, especially with your childish insults regarding my _anatomy_ , I'll refer you to the closest stage of hell where books are meant for anything _but reading_."

She huffed, turning away from his slack-jaw expression. Her fingers were starting to twitch, the impulse of nerves rippling across her flesh with ease. She wondered if Soul could sense this. "In other topics," she continued, "do you have a game plan?"

Soul scratched the growing bump on his head, mumbling something inaudible before nodding in response. "We saw them practice, didn't we? He's all talk. His weapon is his strength." He smirked crookedly. "We take her out, we take them both out."

Maka frowned. "Soul, this isn't a serious fight. We can't injure them—"

"Eh, why not?" He raised an eyebrow.

"… Because we're on school grounds, you idiot." She groaned in exasperation. "Did you even _look_ at the guidelines for Shibusen when you enrolled here? We'll be _suspended_ , or, worse, _expelled_ , if we try anything like that here. We shouldn't even be doing this in the first place." But now it was too late, and she would be damned if she caught herself actually running to a professor and confess. It would set her pride at an all-time low.

"You read them, didn't you?" Soul quipped. "So, it's not my problem." His smirk revealed the length of sharp teeth that would have scared anyone else, but she was Maka Albarn, and even after knowing him for not that long, she was used to it. "Come on, partner, we'll show them what it's like to be a _cool_ meister and weapon."

Despite her better judgment, she couldn't deny the subconscious desire to compete with Black Star and Tsubaki just as much as her new weapon did. Maybe it was their newfound connection that brought this to her attention, but regardless, she was willing to test things out. Would she regret it? There was a chance.

 _But in the end…_ She clenched her free fist, and nodded. "Yeah. Let's go."

When they stepped outside, the grinning sun was fading in the horizon. Purple, orange and pink striped the horizon in bliss. The sunset bled into the background, over sweeping valleys of burning hot sand and the towering buildings of Death City.

Maka inhaled, drinking in the air that was now twisted with excitement and fury. She could sense Black Star's impending desire to strangle her if he could—a thought that would have terrified her in the past, but despite what the blue-haired meister thought; she was not as reckless as he was. She would be smart, and her partnership with Soul was not one to be trifled with.

Soul watched her steadily, observing the twitching in her muscles, the defiance set in her relatively bland olive eyes. He thought about the ferocity that would distort her serious features into a mask of animosity once she would grasp his hand and wield his changed form.

It gave him a thrill, and he was eagerly anticipating what would become of this. He grinned, staring straight ahead towards the unexpectedly focused blue-haired meister, his feet propped up on the balcony as he lowered his chest into a stiff push-up. He was counting out loud, beads of sweat dripping from his forehead, while his weapon seemed concentrated on something else, like a tall, beautiful and womanly guard dog; her appearance was more dismantling than anything.

"They're here, Black Star," Tsubaki whispered, smiling slightly as her meister jumped to his feet, sporting that fantastically wide grin that meant he was ready to bash skulls and embarrass his opponents. Hopefully she would hold him back before he did anything too drastic. Even then, her mind bristled with anticipation for what was to come—she would never admit it, but she felt the same thrill that her meister did. It was one of the major reasons they connected in the first place.

"Heh! Well, I guess you have more guts than I thought!" Black Star cackled, slapping his knee. "That's just hilarious. At least you're not cowards, I guess." He winked coyly; confidence rolling off his flexing muscles in waves. "Let's get this started."

Soul's brow furrowed, glancing at Maka expectantly. "He already thinks he's won," he stated matter-of-factly. "Ready?"

He didn't wait for her answer—within seconds his form shifted and formed the dangerous shape of a Demon Scythe, poised in her tight grip. She twirled it in her hands, spinning it sharply and staring towards her first official opponents, eyes livid with determination and bleeding like melting grass.

"Show us what you've got," Maka declared.

Black Star held out his hand, his smirk only growing wider as Tsubaki took the form of a _shuriken_ , the steel gleaming under the shadows of the sunset.

Maka breathed steadily, calming herself as best she could. She could feel Soul's wavelength pulsing and coinciding with hers, telling her to remain stable. She knew that if the lost control for a split second, it could lead to disaster, and that would be all-around embarrassing, especially with proving Black Star right.

"You're gonna eat your words," Black Star muttered, snickering. "Let's go, Tsubaki."

* * *

 **~ 000 ~**

* * *

Lord Death, despite what his students and fellow staff members at Shibusen may have thought, was incredibly nosy.

During his pastimes he holed himself in his general department, keen on observing the students and their actions during school hours and what took place afterwards. It wasn't an unusual sighting, as sometimes even Spirit Albarn would come visit him on occasion, sporting a bottle of alcohol that he usually attempted to share with Lord Death, to which the headmaster would calmly refuse and explain that eh couldn't enjoy such pleasantries in his current state.

"I can understand being interested in what they were aiming to accomplish, Father." Lord Death's son remarked coldly beside him. He seemed as well-kempt as usual, not a single hair strand or jacket button out of place, and his gaze was fixated on the tall mirror that had the incredible power to allow visionary access to every location in Death City, and sometimes beyond. "However, they aren't as… polished, as I would have originally expected. I sometimes wonder about your choices for your students."

Lord Death only laughed. Kidd said some interesting things, but his opinions about his own father's work and decisions never ceased to amuse him. The two of them were watching the after-school sparring match between the experienced meister, Black Star, his weapon Tsubaki, and Maka Albarn and her brand new weapon, the Demon Scythe, Soul Eater Evans.

"After their demonstration, I decided that I should show you firsthand what some questionable students can act like." His statement seemed carefree, but Kidd knew his father—there was something about the characters they were watching through the mirror… a small piece that would eventually drive him insane if he let it.

"It was a rather reckless display… hardly approving any symmetrical prowess." Kidd straightened his shoulders, smiling in pride at his own accomplishments… along with his obsessive-compulsive tendencies that he pretended didn't exist. "I'm curious as to what you see in them, Father."

"Miss Maka Albarn is one of the most intelligent students here at Shibusen," Lord Death began, "but she is also one of the more impulsive. She's had difficulty finding a connection with any of the weapon students, and that alone was a bit unusual. Her mother had showed plenty of promise while here, and that was actually how her parents had met." He pondered, watching as Soul and Maka dodged a ferocious spinning attack from Black Star. "I was curious as to what would become of the Albarn legacy, since Maka's mother had left quite big shoes to fill."

Kidd frowned, mulling this over. "You're more concerned about the weapon."

Lord Death's attention was focused completely on the battle at hand, at times giving off impressed vibes to his son, while in other moments he would stiffen and shift uncomfortably. Whenever Maka charged with intense power towards Black Star, apparently trying to demonstrate abilities that were not in her control, Lord Death noticed something… _shift_. It was familiar to him, and that alone was unsettling.

"Oh, that technique was atrocious!" Kidd squawked, suddenly looking horrified. His golden eyes bulged out of their sockets, his gloved hands raking at his hair in frantic movements. "They're—they're destroying the _balcony_! What kind of _monsters_ are these? Oh no—Father, the—the _building_ is going to lose its symmetrical appeal! I must put a stop to this!" He turned to leave, but his father quickly swerved to block him from exiting the area, shaking his skull side to side.

"Nu-uh, Kidd. This is important to watch. You will have to suppress your tendencies for now." He ignored the nervous tic that caused Kidd's body vibrate uncontrollably, which he wouldn't have normally recommended as a good parenting decision, but in this case, it was necessary. "This will be good for you!"

" _I refuse to remain here and watch this happen_ —"

"Well, too bad, sonny." Lord Death chuckled. "This will be good for you!"

Despite the protests from Kidd (he practically flashed back to the years when he was younger… and that was _always_ exhausting), Lord Death found a way to focus back on the inevitable match of youthful power displayed on his mirror. It amazed him that his students could possess abilities like this, and he believed that Maka Albarn, in particular, was destined for amazing things.

But, even then, her partner made him uneasy.

He would have to keep an eye on them.

* * *

 **~ 000 ~**

* * *

"H-Had enough yet?!" Black Star shouted, panting from the surprising amount of energy he'd spent during this confrontation. He sported several growing bruises and minor cuts along his legs—flicked from the rubble that they occasionally kicked in the air.

He lunged once more when Maka swung the scythe in his direction, missing him by a hair. He leaped to the middle of the balcony, glancing briefly over the chipped stones from the railing. He watched the Albarn girl stand up straight, her eyes brimming with anticipation as she swept her weapon to her side, wielding it like a true champion. It surprised Black Star, but he wasn't one to admit that another person other than him contained such talents.

Besides, he was _godly_ , far past the level of a neutral _warrior_.

" _Black Star, I think they've proven themselves at this point. Maybe we should stop, since it's more like a tie than anything—"_

"Whoa! You crazy Tsubaki?" Black Star challenged, sighing aggravatingly. "Look at 'em! We're watering them down! It's more like a warm-up sweat!" He cackled mischievously, only causing his weapon to grin in simultaneous exhaustion and amusement at her meister.

Maka watched them closely. _He sure likes to run his mouth…_

" _Better for us, then, if they're distracted."_ Soul's reflection smirked through his scythe form, and Maka could only grin in response.

"I suppose that's true," she wondered aloud, and while Black Star was busy correcting his weapon, she rushed forward. Her legs pumped ferociously, and she was planning to thwack the blue-haired teenager with the blunt end of her weapon, but suddenly, she felt her wavelength shift.

She blanked, shocked, as she found that her weapon was moving against her hand's motions, quickly switching the direction of her swipe to aim for Black Star's neck—with the _blade end of the scythe_.

"BLACK STAR!" Tsubaki screamed, and her meister leaped out of the way, just as the scythe brutally slashed through the cracked edge of the railing. The stone splintered on impact, causing gigantic blocks to topple off the structure and tumble down below. Maka panted, refusing to release her grip on the scythe as it vibrated with strange, unusual pulses of fiery energy.

 _SOUL! We talked about this! Why did you take over?!_

He didn't answer her. She stiffened, spinning on her hind foot and tossing the weapon as far as she could. She watched in satisfaction as it transformed back into Soul's human form, his legs, right on impact, causing him to spring from the wall and land promptly on all fours. He slowly stood up, brushing down his jeans, his eyes flashing with irritation towards the girl as she strode over to him.

"You could've _killed_ him!" Maka snapped. He just watched her, his expression totally unreadable as she ranted at him for how stupid he was. "What were you thinking, Soul? We—we almost _beheaded him_ —"

"Maka." She blinked, staring at him strangely; his eyes were simmering with hidden heat, as if he was trying his best to maintain his patience with her. "That… wasn't intentional," he admitted quietly, growling through clenched teeth. "I didn't have any _fucking thing_ to do with that. I promised you before that I wouldn't try to take over without informing you first. I didn't do it."

Maka was about to scream when she felt a calm hand on her shoulder—she whipped around, freezing in embarrassment as she came face-to-face with Tsubaki. The weapon was smiling in an almost apologetic manner, her meister beside her with his arms folded contently behind his head, a frown adorning his usually energetic features. He seemed a bit bored in their presence, but with the abrupt end to their challenge spectacle, Maka was not surprised.

"You are both very powerful," Tsubaki commented. Maka blushed. "Black Star and I wanted to spar with you to test your strengths, out of pure curiosity. Neither of us was disappointed."

Black Star snorted. "Yeah, well, neither of us really _won_ so…"

Soul raised an eyebrow. "We came out here like you asked. What more do you want?"

"You're a _Demon Scythe_!" Black Star wailed, his arms flailing like a windup doll. "I expected… meh, I just thought it'd be a lot harder. But, whatever." He shrugged, glancing up at the darkening skies and the subtle appearance of the laughing moon. "I dunno, I mean…" He trailed off, his own mind seeming to relapse over what had just occurred. The four of them were tired, even with just a short fifteen to twenty minutes of relentless clashing and not too much noise, and Maka could feel her head pounding with a headache.

She caught Soul at the corner of her eye. He seemed vacant, distant, much quieter than she originally expected. She thought he would be proclaiming his dominance once again in their confrontation after the fake fight was over. They were so close to killing Black Star…

"Don't worry about what happened," Tsubaki said, as if reading Maka's thoughts. "Things like that happen all the time! Especially with new meister and weapon partnerships. It really is a common case. Black Star and I didn't have the smoothest first few training sessions either."

Soul glanced between the two of them curiously. "You seem fine to me." He was ticked off; Maka could sense it easily, and despite her incredible desire to smash all of the books she owned on his head at that very moment, she also desperately wanted to know what was bothering him. The instinctual pull that was now emblazed into their connection was going to drive her insane, but this… what just happened, should never happen.

It was against everything that occurred between meisters and weapons. Soul had to have been lying. He was his own person. She was only wielding _him_ , and clearly she had no control over their partnership. He did what he pleased, and even when he snappily assured her that he did not disobey their agreement from just a few hours ago, she could tell that he was lying.

The bastard.

"It was gracious of you to come out here and spar, though," Tsubaki continued, trying to relieve the awkward, building tension between Soul and Black Star. The two males were locked in a glaring contest, it seemed, though Black Star was beginning to lose his patience, judging by the slow reddening of his cheeks. "Anyway, Black Star and I will be heading out. It was nice to finally get to talk to you and have this opportunity, Maka. Soul."

They were gone before Maka could protest. She waved tentatively, frowning over the unbalanced confrontation the four of them just had. What would her professors say if they witnessed their performance just now? She was right there so many times ready with Soul gripped in her hands, balanced and free like no other.

"Tell me the truth, Soul," Maka whispered icily.

"I'm _telling you the truth_ ," Soul responded. He turned away from her, as if thinking to himself. Maka watched him, hoping that her glare bore into his flesh and that he could somehow _feel_ her growing irritation. "I don't know _what_ happened. I get it, it sucked, and he almost got his head chopped off because of it. I meant what I said before when I agreed to not do that again."

He ran his fingers through his hair, his words dropping like frostbitten leaves.

Silence settled between them.

Maka walked towards the railing, gazing out over the tall buildings, listening to the noises gathering from all sides of Death City, reflecting on what had occurred on this very platform. It would be foolish of her to continue fighting over an issue that they wouldn't agree on—would it be best to let it go? There were, after all, plenty of _great_ things that she and Soul accomplished today, and it was only their second attempt at bonding and trying to connect on a powerful level.

 _He needs training just as much as I do._

She thought about her father, and his notorious history with her mother. They were an unusual, and somewhat forbidden partnership, since they ended up falling in love… a time long forgotten and not usually addressed in public, but the Albarn legacy continued through her, and it thrived on _her_ shoulders. She was responsible for upholding herself as a possible successor to her mother, and she wanted to become the greatest meister that ever existed, and as far as she understood, Soul wanted to become a Death Scythe. They were supposed to help each other.

She sighed, turning around to see that he was still standing in the same spot, several yards away from her. His hands were in his pockets, his back facing her, and his attention was devoted entirely to the ground. She had no idea what he was thinking, but the awkwardness in their companionship needed to end.

"Hey, Soul."

"What?" He said grumpily, clearly biding his time until he separated from her for the day. They would meet tomorrow morning again before entering their first class together, as it had been routine over the last week.

He stepped back in surprise when he found that his meister was at his side once more, the glimmer in her emerald eyes portraying an emotion he could not decipher. He quirked an eyebrow, not exactly sure how to respond to this look, but he could feel her soul resonating calmly with his. Maybe she had already forgiven him, even if that sounded nothing like her…

"We should go get food," Maka quipped, bouncing on her heels. Soul stared at her oddly, wondering if she somehow injured herself badly enough to forget why she was angry at him only a couple minutes ago.

"Uh…" He blinked. "Why?"

Maka snorted. "Because we can." She shrugged. "Come on. Let's go. I know some pretty cool places in downtown—oh! There's a pizza place that I've been meaning to try! Let's go there." She grinned crookedly. Her weapon looked all the more confused, but his lips twisted into a smirk nonetheless.

"Sure."

* * *

 **~ 000 ~**

* * *

Soul wasn't expecting the tiny pizza joint to actually look appetizing, but then again, he never thought of himself as too picky. The grunginess of the old leather seats apparently added _charm_ (accordingly to his delusional meister) to the tiny square space in the middle of Downtown Death City, but Soul could hardly complain.

A row of flickering light bulbs strung up from the cracked ceiling should've been a clear giveaway at the age of the small establishment. Paint streaks that ranged between deep mauve, orange, scarlet and yellow splashed the walls, some spots noticeably peeling. Soul spotted several grease stains on the counters, but was surprised to find that the table where he and his meister sat, outside, on a night swarming with gentle desert humidity, was actually decently set up.

After sparring with Black Star and his admittedly formidable weapon, he knew that he and his meister had burned enough calories to enjoy stuffing their faces with deep-fried dough and cheese. He felt that it was the least of their concerns, and he hadn't expected his meister to actually want to spend any time with him whatsoever after he'd ticked her off so much throughout the day.

She sat across from him, taking one _gigantic_ bite out of a pizza slice smothered in cheese, pepperoni flakes, olives, green peppers and pineapple. His own plate was covered in pieces of bacon that she didn't want—something to snack on while he waited for his order to show up.

"So." He couldn't deny that he was curious. "What's with the pizza?"

Maka wiped her hands in a napkin bundle, shrugging. "Just, wanted to talk."

"Uh-huh…" Soul propped his elbow on the table, leaning his chin into his hand. He didn't seem the least bit convinced. "Not very cool of you to just brush it all off."

His meister bristled at the last statement, grumbling as she took out her frustrations on a chunk of her pizza slice. "Bite me."

"What?" He hid his smirk carefully.

"Nothing," she said quickly, batting her eyelashes.

He rolled his eyes. She was a total brat, and for some reason she only made his skin crawl _sometimes_. In other moments he thought it was quite amusing and one of the main reasons he enjoyed taunting her. Since day one she was really easy to break in terms of her poor temper management. Perhaps their dysfunctional companionship owed to the core of both of their personalities.

He wouldn't be surprised.

"Part of it doesn't really make sense, Short-stack." He leaned back against the chair, enjoying the comfortably warm night weather. "The last thing I expected you to do after pissing you off so freaking much was to take me to get _pizza_." He raised an eyebrow. "So, really, what gives?"

Maka swallowed. "Why do you think?" She challenged him with her tight composure; her eyes were on fire, pools of green swimming with interest. "We don't know a thing about each other, really."

He stiffened. Shit. "Um, yeah, this is not a good idea—"

"Soul, wait." She stopped him with her outstretched hand, her fingers sinking into his sleeve. He had already gotten up, so ready to leave, so ready to escape this rare moment between the two of them that she wasn't sure she would be able to have again.

He glanced down at her fingers, at the silent plea in her eyes, and he eventually gave up, exhaling in annoyance and plopping back down in his chair. He rubbed his temples, days of exhaustion suddenly catching up to him and masking his formerly amused expression with tiredness.

"I just want to talk. We're partners, aren't we? I agreed to this… contract, that you created for our bond, and I think the least we could do is actually talk to each other." She tried to smile. "I don't want to continue wielding a stranger in combat. We'll never get better that way."

Soul thought about what she was saying, about the dangers he had put her through already. His mark was permanently drilled into her skin, the contract forbidden to break. And him, being the asshole he usually was, didn't even think about what his own partner probably wanted in return for her undying devotion.

He never considered himself the type to be merciful, or passionate, or even generous. He hadn't expected that to change when he finally agreed to join hands with a wandering meister. He knew exactly what he was capable of on the battlefield, and the blood that roared in his veins raged with thirst for souls—essences of fellow demons and monstrous creatures that would give him exactly that. He believed that this girl would be the perfect opportunity to be able to grow stronger, to evolve into something that he never thought possible.

And yet, this was turning out to be far different than he imagined. Would she accept him if she knew the whole truth?

He shoved that thought to the deepest, darkest corner of his mind, abruptly locking it tight and ignoring the voice of his subconscious. This was _not_ the time to bring that up, not now, and probably not ever.

"What's your deal, Maka?"

She opened her mouth to respond, but was cut off as the door to the pizza joint opened, and one of the jolly waiters arrived with a steaming hot tray stacked with Soul's pizza of choice. Hunger broiled in his stomach as the friendly man set down the pizza and went on his merry way before the two of them could blink.

Maka chuckled. "He's always like that… never really says a word, but always brings out the best pizza." She watched as Soul grabbed four separate, piping hot pieces of the pie from the tray, already beginning to snap his jaws in gratitude at the delicious flavors. "Well, I don't know how else I'm going to make this happen, so…" She cleared her throat. "I'll start!" Soul blinked at her, pausing mid-bite. "I'm going to say five facts about me that you don't know."

He was tempted to slam his face into his food, but decided against it. He could easily lie, and she wouldn't know… she wasn't strong enough to detect the slight jarring in his wavelength. He would be sure that she wouldn't be able to sense it.

"Go ahead," he muttered, pretending to be fixated completely on his pizza.

Maka clapped her hands together. "I'm the next in line in the Albarn family legacy, which means I'm pretty much expected to be the strongest one yet. My mother was before me, and she could wield my father's scythe form like no other." She paused; thinking far back, and her eyes went cloudy with remembrance. "My mother left my father and I when I was very young." She started absentmindedly tearing apart the napkins in her hands, Soul watching her with his usual frown. "I suppose it was considered a cowardly move, abandoning us like that. She sends me post cards… more than half the time I don't know what to do with them. I'm always torn between shredding them and storing them in my drawer. Usually, on Mother's Day, I'll take the chance to look at them.

"Maybe I'm being foolish, thinking about her, and everything that she's done to us with her leaving and all, and the impact that it's left on my father and I. Even with my shaky relationship with my Papa, at least… he's _here_." She bit her lip, ignoring the tempting build of water behind her eyes. She would not cry, especially in front of _Soul_ of all people. "Um, anyway…" She grinned, pink tinting her cheeks. "I rambled a bit more than I wanted to. Let's see, um, I really like elephants."

She blushed furiously when Soul burst into laughter. It was an unexpected sound, enveloped with masculine girth and a true sense of humor that lied somewhere beneath his frigid exterior. She watched him closely, hoping that her awkward stumbling didn't add to his mental analysis of her character.

"Nice recovery, you dork," Soul muttered. He looked at her quizzically. "I guess you earn points for making me laugh. Really, elephants? That's your best diversion?"

"Well, I didn't want to keep talking about it, asshole," Maka retorted. "Whatever. Forget it."

"You still have three more facts to go," Soul said, catching her off-guard. He turned away when she actually _glistened_ with pleasant surprise. "Don't think about it too much. We're here, aren't we?" He pretended not to care, but Maka could sense the drifting discord in his wavelength. He was hiding something from her, she could feel it. "Just, yeah, keep talking, Albarn."

She grinned knowingly. "Okay. If that's what you want." She cleared her throat. "Well, I had my first actual lesson with a demon when I was six, out on a spree with my Papa…"

She'd gone on to tell him much more about her than he could have anticipated. Soul just sat there, listening to every detail, watching her movements as she spoke, the occasional excitement and random spurts of solemnity that laced her words making him pay more attention than he'd originally intended. He observed her giggle and laugh over her own memories, as if forgetting that the person she was talking to was _her partner_ , a person that, as far as he was concerned, really wasn't a fan of.

What _had_ drawn him to her? Creatures like him were never destined to live their lives _happily_ , as far as he knew. He'd heard other stories of his kind, wandering endlessly their entire lives, some finding meisters, some not, and usually doom waited for them at the end. Tales of horror would often plague his side of the several species of Demon Weapons, and being a Demon Scythe, he'd received more than one frightened look on occasion.

But, Maka Albarn was not like the others. He'd sensed the courage in her that he hadn't found in another meister; usually they were greedy for power, wanting to form an alliance, a forbidden contract, just so they could have access to arguably one of the strongest breeds of weapons alive. Soul didn't have to tell Maka that wielding him would promise her great power, but for some reason… they seemed balanced, despite the fact that she wanted control and he definitely did not want to lose that privilege to her.

"So what about you?"

He snapped out of his daydream, crimson orbs dancing with confusion. "Hm?"

Maka tilted her head to the side, blinking slowly. "You know… five facts about you. It's supposed to go both ways."

Soul hesitated, groaning in misery. "Do we really have to talk about me? Can't we just save that for another time?"

He didn't have a lot to tell her, and honestly he felt like they weren't close enough for him to share those details. If she wanted to harp about her life, he didn't care, but it was a different matter when it concerned him. He didn't want to ever think about his past, no matter what.

"Soul?" Maka paused, and an emotion that crossed her features was one that Soul had never seen before: concern. "… Is there any reason why you don't want me to know anything about you?"

He watched her, hand gripping the empty water glass to his right. He looked away after a few seconds, his attention wandering elsewhere.

The breeze picked up, ruffling the spikes of his crisp white hair. He knew that his meister would be relentless about this from now on, but she could keep asking if she wanted. He would never let her in too deep.

"I'm not your enemy, Soul," Maka whispered seriously. "As much as you frustrate me, I feel that we can become even stronger in the long run, and I don't want us to be strangers. I want to understand you better."

He glanced at her, puzzled.

"You don't have to tell me about yourself tonight, if that makes you uncomfortable." She shrugged weakly. "But that doesn't mean we can't learn to know each other. When I agreed to your contract, I knew that things would start off rocky. I get that. But that doesn't mean we can remain on these terms. You asked me to trust you, and I can't do that until you trust me too."

He didn't expect this. Some hidden, stashed piece of him that he hated acknowledging started to beat in response to her kind words, her lightly flushed cheeks, and the rustling of her pigtails in the late breeze. He felt her wavelength calm in unison with his, connecting on a level of emotions they hadn't explored before. HE wasn't used to seeing Maka so calm, even after just a week of knowing her.

She was full of contradictions and surprises, and in all honesty, he was a hot fucking mess himself. Maybe this was part of why he agreed to all of this, going against his better judgment of denouncing all meisters who approached him.

"I started playing the piano when I was three."

Maka blinked at his sudden breakage of the quiet wall between them. She looked at him, perplexed.

Soul shrugged, taking a large bite out of his pizza slice. "You know, in case you were curious."

His meister relaxed. Soul could feel the relief flooding through her tiny body, as if a damn had broken and released a great surge of emotional water through her system.

"It's a start," Maka said, grinning sweetly—now, that was definitely not like her… "Thanks, Soul."

Soul refused to acknowledge the glimmer of satisfaction he felt at seeing her small, real and altogether _breathtaking_ smile.

* * *

 **Next chapter will be more explorative towards the other characters in the show, especially regarding Kidd, Black Star, Tsubaki, the Thompson sisters, and of course, Crona. ;P I hope you all enjoyed this chapter!**

 **Please review if you'd be so kind.**

 **I'm aiming for… hopefully, 25 – 30 reviews for this chapter. We'll see how that goes, but even if I don't reach it I'll update it anyway.**

 **Thanks guys! Until next time!**

 **\- Sulfur Dusk**


	5. Connections

**His Meister, Her Weapon**

* * *

 **Summary:** _Whether it was destiny or luck, she couldn't decide: a chance meeting, a demonic grin, an unbreakable contract and suddenly Maka's soul was no longer her own. – A darker retelling of Soul Eater –_

 **A/N:** _Thanks guys for the reception to the last chapter! We've hit the 28 Review mark! :D That's pretty exciting for this story. Please enjoy the next installment to the story! I had a lot of fun writing this one._

* * *

 **4**

Connections

* * *

The Thompson sisters were usually receptive to the ideas that their neurotic meister affiliated with. He tended to become obsessed with the tiniest of details, even when said details weren't nearly as important as the bigger picture.

Elizabeth was more vocal about her opinions regarding Death the Kidd's habits, but her sister, Patricia, was usually the Thompson that was able to _communicate_ with their meister on a level that her older sibling was unfamiliar with. Perhaps it had something to do with Patti's naturally childish behavior, but her intelligence far exceeded her outspoken habits and general dislike for anything that didn't resemble a balloon animal.

"So, exactly _why_ are we in the library again?" Liz asked, examining her fingernails one at a time, just to distract herself routinely from whatever Kidd was going to say to her. If he responded, it would probably be nonsensical and not even worth her time. A mere two seconds had passed and she already regretted asking anything.

"Father mentioned something interesting about Maka Albarn's weapon." Kidd was entirely focused on the gigantic collection of manuscripts set before him. Traditionally, he organized the books and scrolls by order of color, a figment of his personality shining through that neither Thompson really appreciated all that much. "He was concerned about the abilities that the Evans boy has. I think he may be onto something… which is why we're here, researching."

Liz turned her attention towards her sister, who was effortlessly balancing on an outstretched ladder on the opposite side of the library. It was an enormous room, designed to house hundreds of people, which would make sense considering the volumes and _volumes_ of incredible knowledge kept here for safekeeping. Lord Death would skin anyone alive if they ever messed with these documents and novels.

Additionally, it seemed to be a part of Kidd as well. He was always calmer when he was here, inhaling the musty smell of worn pages and enjoying the inevitable silence. They always came here during the after-hours, when it was closed off to the Shibusen student body. Of course, as the headmaster's son, he had his special privileges, and technically he still wasn't enrolled.

"Ah, now this is interesting." Kidd resumed taking notes, switching back and forth between unraveled manuscripts and textbooks. "Mmhm, fascinating, really. Elizabeth, Patricia, I think we may have some groundbreaking pieces of information on our hands. We will have to tell Father as soon as we see him."

Liz rolled her eyes. "You could tell him yourself, you know. We're not mailmen."

Kidd ignored this comment, flipping through a new opened book. He had already accumulated plenty of information from historical volumes, such as _The Discovery of Soul Wavelengths_ and _The Theory of Relationship Dynamics Between Demon Weapons and Their Meisters_. Some of these were required reading for Shibusen students, which he found to be somewhat impressive, but he retracted that thought when he realized that most of them probably didn't even bother _doing_ such assignments.

"There are plenty of possibilities written in these books, but…" Kidd propped his elbows on his desk, pinching the bridge of his nose. He exhaled slowly, proceeding to rub his temples as he contemplated why his father would even ask him to do this when there wasn't much to find, even in the library. A lot of these notes were informative, but they were nothing out of the ordinary. "He mentioned that he was concerned about the level of power that he possessed, like he was a dangerous sort."

"Aren't all Demon Weapons dangerous in some way? I mean, we _are_ capable of turning into _weapons_." Liz crossed her arms, stooping to a bored squat. She didn't understand the point of any of this. "I don't get what Lord Death wants from us. Don't you think it's strange that he asked you to do this?"

"I feel obligated," Kidd responded calmly. "There was definitely something unusual about the Albarn girl's weapon. There's no doubt in my mind about that. Which means, my father, who's senses are far superior to mine in that regard, must have noticed something even bigger by comparison. This is clearly an important matter, whether we believe it to be or not."

Liz eyed him warily, her lips twisting into an unsure frown. Part of her—a small, barely noticeable piece that was there but not _always_ acknowledged—really worried about her meister when he pushed himself like this. If she and Patti weren't careful, they would be dragged into hours upon hours and even _days_ of constant, exhausting research, most likely doing their best to convince Kidd that he needed to take a break.

The man didn't even know the definition of a break. He _never_ would.

"Humor me," Liz muttered. "What did you find that was apparently so _interesting_?"

Kidd dipped his head, thinking. Liz watched him curiously, noticing the way his fingers shuffled in pondering as he raced through the undoubtedly long and tangled corridors of his own mind. "Well, it's common knowledge that not all Demon Weapons are meant to be trusted, in the exact same way that not all ordinary humans are to be trusted. In this case, my father suspects that this Soul Evans character is much more dangerous than he originally anticipated. He wanted me to find information about a species of Demon Weapon that was somehow similar to his abilities. Though I don't understand how I can do that with little to go on." His brow furrowed together. "A part of me is also wondering why he would ask me to do this, when it is clear that he already knows the answer."

His words sent an unexpected chill down Liz's spine. "Why would he send you here then…?" She thought about Lord Death, and honestly, she couldn't think of anyone else who gave her a similar vibe. He was unpredictable and easy to trust; with just how whimsical he was and the way he approached everyday situations. As the Headmaster of Shibusen, his rules were a bit lenient in comparison to what she was expecting when she looked over the guidelines. But hearing this new piece of information from Kidd surprised her, to say the least. "That doesn't really make any sense, Kidd."

"My father can be unpredictable," he replied sullenly. "All I can do is research as much as possible, and try to find even more information than he will originally expect from me. There must be some reason why he's hiding this from me." He couldn't think of any particular reason _why_ his father would do such a thing, but sometimes Lord Death would test him in the strangest ways. Maybe it was meant as some form of preparation, if he could even think in the context of the future—

He shook his head swiftly, annoyed at his own thoughts. It felt blasphemous.

"You and Patti can go back to the house if you'd like, Liz," Kidd said suddenly. He turned to her, golden eyes flashing with seriousness and concern. "I would hate for you to be sleep-deprived because of my intellectual ventures."

Liz snorted. "Oh, please, we've stuck with you through worse. How many missions have we been on?" She grinned crookedly. "Don't worry about it."

"Yeah! Don't worry about it!" Patti called from atop the ladder, juggling numerous different books with ease. Kidd watched her frantically, desperately hoping that his partner wouldn't fall and break something…

"If you both insist," he said. "Just saying that this will probably take a lot longer than I'd originally anticipated."

* * *

 **~ 000 ~**

* * *

Franken Stein couldn't remember the last time someone paid him a visit. Nonetheless, he listened to the cautious footsteps scraping the tiled floors of his laboratory, a sound that stuck with him regardless of what he wanted to think. Cautiously, he reached up and twisted the gigantic screw sticking out of his head like a beacon, the metal end becoming more receptive with the rest of his body. The pieces of him strung together by whatever materials necessary were usually enough to scare any passersby, unless, of course, he was familiar with said person.

"You still hole yourself up in here like a mole?"

Stein swiveled around his chair, his fingers drumming on the arm rests. His mouth curved into a casual smirk, vacant eyes casually lowering in wonderment. "What are you doing here, Spirit?"

Spirit Albarn hadn't visited him quite a long time. Too long, if Stein's opinion mattered at all. Their companionship was strung thin over the last several years, but their past still broiled to the present, like the inner workings of a volcano. They were a powerful pair before the crimson-haired man decided that his illegal romantic interests were more important than his—and, this subject was admittedly arguable—closest friend.

"You sound prickled," Spirit said, chuckling good-naturedly. His hands were dangling out of his slacks pockets, his expression only mildly interested in whatever else the odd-looking man had to say. Stein was not someone to trifle with, and even if Spirit carried himself without much left to his title of a Death Scythe, he knew better than anyone that taunting the scientist would end messily. "I came to just talk. Maybe catch up. Perhaps share some old stories between friends—"

"Lord Death sent you," Stein interrupted, smirking coyly. He reached over for his coffee mug, tentatively sipping the black, bitter tar. "I had more faith in your abilities to be unpredictable, Spirit. I guess I was wrong." He shrugged. "Is there something else that you'd rather talk about? Something that is considerably more interesting?"

Spirit's eyes narrowed seriously. "This is about more than Lord Death's personal request…" He trailed off. "We had many adventures, didn't we? Does that matter at all to you anymore?"

"I'm sure they do, in a part of me that actually seems normal. Which, clearly, doesn't apply to me anymore." Stein gestured to his surroundings, to the decrepit atmosphere of a man trapped in a box made of steel and wires. "This is my lab, as you can see. I'm surprised that you took time out of your _busy_ schedule to come visit." He sounded less than impressed, which was exactly what Spirit expected.

"Got any coffee to spare?" Spirit quipped, flashing a trademark grin that would have been nostalgic for Stein if not for the current tension between them.

The scientist was silent for a moment, swishing his mug back and forth. He pointed with his free hand towards the toppled cups and bags of freshly ground beans not too far from them. "Help yourself."

It was weird, seeing each other again. Though Spirit would not be the first to admit it. He made his cup of coffee as expected, swiveling childishly in one of Stein's spare leather-rimmed chairs, and eyed his odd collection of experiments. Some glass vials contained animal organs, while others were filled with multicolored gels and mysterious objects that he was quite glad he didn't know about.

"Is this what you do now? Collect rat spleens and crow brains?" Spirit's face blanched slightly when he caught sight of a broad dissection table, where a creature resembling a cross between a crow and a snake was marked for the impending project. He swallowed, raising an eyebrow towards his comrade. "Seems like an unorthodox hobby, don't you think?"

Stein chuckled. "You don't know me at all, if you think that I'm not a little _unorthodox_ myself." His gaze shifted into one that was far less playful, dismantling the current web of false friendliness drifting in the air. "Why are you here?"

"You guessed correctly the first time, old friend," Spirit said quickly. "Lord Death had sent me straight to you, asking for a favor. Or, more like inquiring for an offer that he's sure you won't want to refuse."

"Try me," Stein challenged.

His former partner stiffened at these words, like a loose cannon setting off in his mind. "He's offering a chance for you to teach students at the Academy." His words were left hanging; the shed skin of a rattlesnake sentence. Stein slowly rolled his shoulders back, taking another firm twist of the giant screw in his noggin, before finally turning his attention completely to Spirit.

"I have no interest in becoming a part of the staff at Shibusen," he whispered calmly. "It's a bit jarring that he would make such a request." He set down his mug, remembrance flashing across his eyes—ovals of frozen time and limitless wisdom. "And that he would send you to do his dirty work for him, though I suppose that that last tidbit isn't so shocking. You always were more receptive to those with power."

Spirit did not flinch at the personal jab. He stood his ground, but his expression wavered; he had little control in front of his old friend at times. It had been so long, but he would not remain the emotionally weaker one. Not in this instance. "I have a daughter, Stein."

"Oh?" The scientist smirked grimly. "Interesting. I'm assuming she's a product of your illegal affair with your meister. Is that correct?"

Spirit's throat tightened. "You know that her mother left me—"

"And whose fault is that?" Stein countered. He waited for the effect of his words to sink in, observing the gentle recoiling of Spirit's fingers as they struck the flesh of his palms. He wanted to punch him, he could tell. He always made that face whenever he was frustrated with him. Stein knew him too well. "You're eager to drop whatever is in front of you to pursue what you believe is going to grant you bigger, better things, Spirit. That has never changed about you. Will it be the same case with your daughter?"

The other man's spine straightened and his jaw clenched, but he would not let loose the building anger he was bottling deep inside. "My _daughter_ is perfectly capable of handling herself. She's strong, she's smart. She's everything that I wanted in a child, and more. She's taken everything great about her mother and whatever positive thing about me… and made it beautiful." The smallest of smiles curled onto his lips, fondness leaking into his voice as he talked about his precious daughter.

Stein watched him closely. "Hm." He laced his fingers together, glancing towards the doorway to his laboratory. He really should start locking the damn thing… "You're here because of your daughter, then?"

Spirit looked at him blankly. "You could say that."

"Well, I know that you have no intention of repairing the partnership we once had."

Stein was not a person to hold onto a grudge or any sense of bitterness for too long, but in Spirit's case, it was indeed something _special_. It was something tangible, like cords and wires strung up in his hands, and if he played the right tune, he would get a result that was either disastrous or marvelous. There was never an in-between.

"Her name is Maka," Spirit continued. "Lord Death suspects that her abilities as a technician will only grow tenfold at this point. She's also finally partnered with a very interesting weapon." His eyes flashed, a streak of fatherly protectiveness dwelling in those cold depths. "My precious daughter fails to realize the repercussions of partnering with the opposite gender, since it's become so rare… especially with the rules at Shibusen changing so drastically."

Stein shrugged. "He changed the rules for you, didn't he?"

Spirit's head snapped up, his teeth grinding. "This isn't _about_ me, asshole. I'm not here to talk about our partnership and my fucking up everything. I'm here to talk about my daughter, because Lord Death believes that you can help lead her and other students at Shibusen on a path to greater things."

Stein exhaled shallowly, listening to the quiet humming of his electronic devices. He wanted to continue with his dissections and other experiments. He had months worth of work ready for him, all personally handled, all correctly assembled, and some documents were even alphabetized… he hadn't expected his old and formerly closest friend to stride through his private front door and let out such ruthless requests.

It was almost hilarious. _Almost_.

"Lord Death already has you. And, quite a few others, if I remember correctly." His tone was close to mocking, teetering on the edge of a childish, _boyish_ taunt. But for the sake of Spirit's sanity, he decided he wouldn't go that far. He still wanted his dignity to remain intact, unlike his body. "Why would he have any use for me?"

Spirit was quiet for a moment. His hands danced around the mug, painted black with green stripes, and exuding a light swirl of steam. "You were one of the best, Stein. Lord Death knows your reputation, your secrets, your power, your skills. He knows that you could be a great asset to the school. I requested you myself."

Stein glanced at him cautiously. "Really."

"Yeah," Spirit added calmly.

The gray-haired man smirked in deep amusement, unsure of how to handle this situation. There were plenty of pros and cons, but he wouldn't spend twenty minutes writing down a list comparing the two on a piece of paper. It was simply not worth his time… but then again, it wasn't a common occurrence for Lord Death to personally send out requests or messages like this. Perhaps they were legitimately interested in whatever Stein had to offer.

"… I'll agree to this, Spirit, on one condition."

The red-haired Albarn perked up, grinning widely. "Hah! I knew you'd come around—," he stopped quickly, the other man's words finally sinking in. "What condition, exactly?"

The scientist only shrugged, his eyes slanting into a glimmer that showed total seriousness. "I'm sure it will interest you. Just, be quiet, and listen."

* * *

 **~ 000 ~**

* * *

Black Star wasn't the type to show his weaknesses openly to others. Usually when he was by his lonesome, he enjoyed telling himself that he truly was at the length of power that gods possessed; after all, becoming all talk eventually led to great success, right? His philosophies, while misguided, would work for him most of the time. Perhaps that was how he was able to pass most of his classes at Shibusen, despite having one of the worst attendance records of any student.

He prided himself in his physical prowess, athleticism, strategies (that far exceeded anything that other _manly_ meisters would hope to think of) and would marvel at the expectations most professors would vocalize. He was lucky that he happened to be partnered with a Demon Weapon that understood him on a level that others did not. Encountering Tsubaki was one major step in the right direction, as far as he was concerned (although, he wasn't a fan of other _manly_ meisters who asked for her to be _theirs_ first).

They were pathetic. Tsubaki was his, no one else's. He didn't think he would have to make that perfectly clear with their godly demonstrations in test fields and out on missions, but obviously, he needed to make those thoughts _extra crystal_.

"Black Star? Are you going to eat your soup?" His weapon was wearing her usual kind smile, her fingers tentatively wrapped around her teacup. A scent mingling between jasmine and orange citrus wafted around her like a cloud of perfume. "I mean, you've been staring at me for the last ten minutes."

Black Star snapped out of his train of thought, his hands poised on his crisscrossed knees, his expression undoubtedly over-serious. He never liked concerning Tsubaki over trivial matters; usually when he daydreamed in front of her, he would lie and claim that it had absolutely nothing to do with her whatsoever. But she could probably see through his ruse—she was the only person who could do that, after all.

"Eh, it's nothing," Black Star said, grinning crookedly. "This soup is not manly enough to handle my taste buds!" Tsubaki blinked, giggling good-naturedly. "I will wolf it down as a _godly_ champion!" He grabbed the bowl, leaning back his head and drinking the entire thing in exactly six, gigantic gulps.

His weapon shook her head. "You never cease to amaze me, Black Star." She lowered her teacup, her mind drifting. "You know, we haven't really talked to Soul and Maka since our sparring match." She watched her meister stiffen, giving her a rather sour look. "I know what you're thinking," she began, "but I think that we should get to know them better. They're clearly skilled, and powerful. But I like them, too. There's something about them that I enjoy, and I can feel that you do too."

Her wavelength was not entirely meshed with Black Star's, since he was surprisingly quite adept at hiding his core emotions from her, but nonetheless, they balanced each other out in combat despite the inconsistencies. Some professors concluded that they were an ironically based pair, using each other's differences to excel on different planes.

"Meh." Her meister snorted. "Why are you even thinking about them, anyway?" He eyed her strangely, the muscles in his arms twitching, itching to hit something. He was already late for his scheduled workout. "It was pointless."

Tsubaki frowned. "This isn't like you." She sighed. "Will you at least try to talk to them? They're new to all of this, and I feel like we're _supposed_ to be involved in their lives somehow. Don't you feel that too? Don't you feel like _something_ in the air is pulling us to them?" She knew she sounded insane, but if she could feel these waves of uncertainty and high-strung emotions, then her meister most likely could as well.

The blue-haired athlete shrugged, feigning indifference. "I don't understand the point, Tsubaki. There's people like them all over the school."

"They could be our friends," his weapon added. "Well, if you don't want to talk to them, then that's fine. But I think I will, regardless of what may happen from that." She shrugged. "Besides, I know that you can't say no to me for long."

A heated blush crossed Black Star's features, his eyes wide in shock at her words. "W-What's that supposed to mean?! Of course I can say no to you! I always do!" His weapon grinned mischievously, hiding her smile behind a sip of her tea. He glared hotly. "I'll show you, Tsubaki! I won't let you control me!" He snorted. "Pft. Ridiculous."

She only laughed. It was nice having him around.

* * *

 **~ 000 ~**

* * *

She was a woman of multiple masks. Perhaps it was due to the fact that she was undoubtedly beautiful to the mundane. One look at her lovely features, only occasionally twisted into a shadowed collage of expressions that teetered on the verge of insanity, would form a glimpse into her true nature. The gentle, swaying locks of chestnut blonde hair, creatively cut in a way that was unique amongst the staff at Shibusen, only helped in accentuating the unique curvature of her bone structure. Her eyes were almond-shaped, crackling like flecks of gold.

Dr. Medusa pricked up her glasses, groaning in misery as she signed off the last form of the day. With the incoming students with their required examinations, flowing in from left and right, she had a hard time keeping track of them all. The "Technician" and "Demon Weapon" categories quickly blurred together like breakfast porridge.

She couldn't wait until her shift was over. She stared at the door, half-expecting yet another student to waltz through and politely request an examination form. She had other matters to attend to—matters that, as far as she was concerned, were much more important than _this_.

Medusa had some _one_ waiting for her that was more important, as well. Shuffling papers and storing them under different file names were certainly not an objective of her everyday routine that she looked forward to. But getting through those monotonous, bratty, _annoying_ children week in and week out was beginning to officially grate on her nerves, even with her impending goals set for the future.

She waited until she was positive that the bell rang, listening to the flourishing rush of footsteps to the grand entrance doors to Shibusen. She gathered her supplies in a briefcase as she normally did, hanging up her lab coat and slipping into a long, black cotton jacket with slick matching buttons. As usual, Medusa never really exchanged goodbyes or pleasantries with the other staff members when she left school grounds, calling a taxi before anyone could ask her where she would be going.

As soon as she made it home, she slapped down her briefcase and kicked off her heels. She motioned towards the one room in the entire house where she knew no one would suspect to hold anything of importance, to which she would acknowledge with a small smile that they would always be wrong.

"Mother's home!" She called whimsically, grasping the brass doorknob and slowly pulling it open. She inhaled the musky smell of the inside, enjoying the languid darkness that swallowed the remainder of the dining room's candlelight. Her smirk grew wider, until it almost seemed inhuman, purely sadistic and selfishly fueled in nature. "Crona? Did you not hear me?"

She heard a quiet shuffle in the shadows. She opened the door wider, her smile only continuing to grow in width at the delicately curled ball of black cotton material in the corner. She heard the distinct rattle of chains—no doubt the shackles clasped around her child's wrists. He always needed to be disciplined whenever he stepped out of line, even when asking her unnecessary questions.

Unfortunately, for Crona's sake, he asked far too many of those exact questions.

"What are you doing over there? I said that I'm home, did I not?" she cooed, sounding far too kind. Far too nice. Something seemed amiss, but she did not carry herself in a way that promised torture or pain for her reluctant child.

Crona slowly removed himself from being hard-pressed against the wall. His wide, terrified eyes were brimming with childish tears, leaving significant stains on the pearly skin of his cheeks. His fingernails were rubbed raw, the tips crusty with dried blood. He'd been trying to scratch his way out again—she could tell, just from the guilt shrouding his irises and the trembling in his body.

Her smile reduced to a pencil-thin frown. "You disrespected me again, Crona." She sighed. "I've had quite a long day, you know. I have little to no time to tolerate your games. You're getting too old to be like this." She scowled harshly. "Must I remind you what Medusa does with children who refuse to listen to her rules? Who refuse to _learn_ , _adjust_ and _obey_?"

Crona swallowed, dipping his head low to the ground, practically groveling at his mother's feet. Medusa wondered why the noisy creature who possessed her son's body would not react to the current situation, since he had a rather loud, obnoxious mouth. Perhaps he was resting from a long night's work.

"… It's… it's too dark…" Crona whispered, shivering.

Medusa cocked an eyebrow. "Pardon?" She placed her hands on her hips, impatience flashing across her serpentine golden eyes. "Kids who obey their mothers and learn from their mistakes know that the darkness is meant to be their friend." She shrugged, checking the length of her sharp, oily fingernails. "You will remain in here to concentrate on your bond with your… _improved_ , blood." She smirked, glancing at her son casually. "I will feed you when you report to me decent progress on your bonding with your new abilities."

The door slammed shut, leaving the person inside to tremble once more, and argue with the creature that infested his body in the worst way possible.

 _He didn't understand why, but each day, more and more, through each passing second, he practiced an emotion known simply as "hate" and directed it all towards her._

* * *

 **~ 000 ~**

* * *

"I think we should live together."

Well, that was one of the last things Soul expected to hear from the technician. Pausing, he lowered the juice box tightly clenched in his left hand, casting the Albarn girl a rather annoyed expression. "… Why?" He had a good guess as to why, actually, but he was bored, and for the moment he wanted to toy with her and see how she would react to his seemingly stupid questions.

Maka crossed her arms, as if ready to lecture. "There are a lot of easy reasons as to why we should live together, actually. It's a perfectly normal thing for students at Shibusen. I've been living by myself for the last couple of months, and other than how quiet it is—," she stopped, as if reveling in the fact that she _did_ enjoy having all that space to herself, but she continued nonetheless. "Well, I'm not exactly _alone_ anymore. I think there would be a lot of benefits to us being roommates." She grinned, shrugging. "I don't see any harm in it."

Soul looked away from her, his sharp teeth gnawing on the tip of his straw. "I guess there's a point in that." He smirked. "As far as the actual _living_ arrangement, I'm just going to assume that we're going to be sharing _everything_ together—"

Maka smacked him with a textbook. He growled, glaring hotly in her direction—he swore that if they weren't in such a public place, he would have wringed her neck on the spot. She was such a brat.

"The fuck was that for?" he snapped.

"Because you're a pervert," she answered hotly, rolling her eyes. "There's a guest bedroom in my apartment. The school pays for most of the funds, including the washing machine, the dryer, and some of the furniture. My father paid for the TV, but I never use it." Her partner gave her a shocked look, as if dreading the fact that she couldn't bask in the glory of television. Why would she when she had plenty of books to read? "You can use the TV, obviously, when you move in."

Soul raised an eyebrow. "I don't get a choice in this?"

"Not really," Maka countered. "Where are you living right now anyway?" She glanced over him curiously, realizing that within the last two weeks, through hardly knowing this person at all, she'd never asked him once where he went after school hours were done. Guilt pricked her heart; what if she had been too selfish?

"That's… not really your concern," he muttered, crushing the juice box and tossing it into the trashcan beside him. He stared ahead, rolling his neck until he heard a satisfying _crack._ Maka usually noticed him do this whenever he tried avoiding a direct answer. "But, whatever, living together should be fine."

Maka blinked, clasping her hands together gratefully. "Great! We can go pick up your stuff and I can show you around the apartment—"

"Maka, I don't exactly _have_ … you know, a lot." His cheeks tinted pink. Avoiding her confused stare, he distracted himself by reaching behind him, focusing on adjusting the collar of his jacket. "We can just go directly there. I can manage."

Maka eyed him warily. That couldn't possibly mean… "You… Soul, don't tell me you've been _homeless_." She expected him to burst out laughing, to call her indiot for making such claims, such ridiculous accusations while they were having this plain conversation. She wanted to laugh, too, hoping she was wrong, hoping that the guilt would subside in her chest, but when he refused to even twitch a muscle to fix that subtle frown on his features, she knew her suspicions were correct. The light change in their wavelength only helped in giving it away. "I can't believe this. Why didn't you _tell me_? I could've arranged for this the day after we met!"

Soul scoffed. "It's not a big deal, Pigtails."

"Like hell it is," she barked. "We're supposed to tell each other everything!" She was so sick of having this same conversation. Whenever she yelled at him like this, whenever he got irritated with her, it all turned back to the source of the problem: he never communicated with her. Soul, either for the sake of his pathetic "coolness" or "man pride" or whatever else he used as an excuse, just hated talking to her about anything.

"Maybe we don't need it as much as you think we do," Soul said through clenched teeth.

Maka blinked. "What? Soul, that's a huge part of our partnership. Look," she paused, sighing tiredly. "I don't want to fight with you about this, okay? I want to help you because…" She trailed off, grumbling. "We're friends, aren't we? We can live together, and strengthen our bond as meister and weapon. Don't you want that?"

Soul gave her a rather frigid glare. "You can say that all you want, _Maka_ , but you and I both know that you'll just get tired of me eventually. Hell, you may want to be a powerful technician someday, just like your _mom_ or whatever else you say to me when you're bored and you can't shut up. And, well, fuck it, let's just say that I never open up to you, huh? What if I don't _ever_ want to tell you about me and where I've fucking come from and what I'm _planning_ to do with my life?"

He was close to her now, ignoring the slightly confused stares of passing parents and their children in the park. Maka backed up against the wall, momentarily paralyzed from his sudden shift towards her. She gathered her bearings, taking one hand and pushing him away from her. He stared down at her fingers, each one gently pressing into the material of his yellow shirt.

His fists clenched, and he stepped back, sighing. He glanced at her apologetically, taking a couple more steps back and running his hands through his hair. "Sorry." She watched him, unmoving, unchanging of her expression. "That was uncool."

Why did she have this effect on him? Why, and _how_ , did a girl like her tick him off so much? It was like she knew exactly how to press his buttons, even when she hardly did anything remotely different from what another person would have told him in her situation.

"… You know," his meister whispered, breaking his train of thought. He watched her curiously, honestly taken aback that she hadn't already smacked him with her book for a second time. "Instead of taking out all of your anger on me, you can focus it on the punching bags that I have set up in my apartment. You know, after you move in."

It was like she was brushing every single word he just said under the rug. Soul couldn't believe that he was partnered with a girl like this one, and he kept telling himself this over and over again, whenever he went to sleep on rooftops, pondering about his decisions in getting himself entangled in the Albarn girl's destiny.

"You told me when we first met that you weren't a good person." She locked eyes with him, those tender green pools alive with too many conflicting emotions for Soul to count. He didn't understand what he was trying to say, and he didn't like that she could easily call the shots when she rendered him speechless, but here they were, once again, in the cusp of an argument. "Honestly, I have yet to see that."

Soul's heart skipped a beat. He dismissed this quickly, turning sharply away from her and pretending to watch the happy families gather in the park lawn. The sky was a deeper blue, indicating that it was already late afternoon, just a couple of hours since he'd first arrived here on his own, and only about thirty minutes after his meister found him and decided to join him.

The air between them turned comfortable, almost serene, after five minutes of total silence had passed. Every now and then, Soul was glance at the corner of his eye to see if the pigtailed bookworm was still transfixed on the grass and the grittiness of the basketball court, but her attention was glued to her book. He just now realized that she had brought a plastic box with her, concealing what he could only assume to be her lunch.

He cursed himself for his own growing hunger.

"Take one," she said, not looking up from her novel. "I have more food at the apartment. I can lend you an extra box when we head there."

He stiffened, groaning. "God, Pigtails." He shook his head. "I really don't get you."

She drove him insane. And yet, even after all this, with the countless arguments and the desire to get to know him better over silly lunchtime gatherings and passing notes in the classroom, she remained who she was. She still asked him questions, still pressed him for information, but her stubbornness kept her instilled with her own ideals and her casual role as a meister and student. She was strong-willed, unbendable by any means, and her gutsiness would, without a doubt, attract other dark forces within a matter of time. Hell, it was most likely due to his presence alone that shielded her from the senses of hungry monsters.

He knew what lived out there. He'd killed enough to know what creatures of shadows and blood were capable of.

Maka was willing to extend her hand to him even when he treated her like shit half the time. He could easily pay that back, tenfold.

But to tell her the truth, the whole truth, would be another story…

* * *

 **Well there ya have it! I wanted to form some moments between the other characters, and this last part at the end is supposed to help signify more on where Maka nad Soul stand with their relationship. I'm trying to make it seem more realistic, since they've only known each other a couple weeks, and with Soul's background, it'll be harder for Maka to adjust to being his friend and more.**

 **Hope you all enjoyed the chapter!**

 **Review Goal Count:**

 **30 – 40**

 **Thanks for the reviews for the last chapter again everybody! They really made my entire week/month/whatever! :D**

 **Until next time!**

 **P.S. Feel free to check out my other Soul Eater stories! _Neophobia_ is brand new and was a lot of fun to work on. New chapters for that story will be posted soon as well. :)**

 **\- Sulfur Dusk**


	6. A Confrontation

**His Meister, Her Weapon**

* * *

 **Summary:** _Whether it was destiny or luck, she couldn't decide: a chance meeting, a demonic grin, an unbreakable contract and, suddenly, Maka's soul was no longer hers. – A darker retelling of Soul Eater –_

 **A/N:** _Here's the next chapter! This is where things start to get rolling. Some pretty exciting things planned for this story! Hope you all enjoy! :)_

* * *

 **5**

A Confrontation

* * *

The assembly hall was just as crowded as the first day technicians and Demon Weapons strolled through the front doors of Shibusen.

Colorful banners of silver, black and crimson print rolled along the walls, billowing slightly whenever a figure of authority walked into the spacious dome. Rumors had blossomed about one week prior, indicating that new professors were going to be hired for unknown reasons, since it would probably lead to over-staffing, but the anticipation ran wild within the hearts and minds of the entire student body.

Soul didn't understand what the big deal was. As far as he was concerned, he was fine with staying at the fresh apartment complex he now shared with Maka and lounge on the couch. Opening a bag of potato chips and watching television didn't seem like a terrible option either, but priorities dragged him here.

He noticed Black Star and Tsubaki standing near the front, the blue-haired meister folding his arms across his body and wearing an indignant expression. His brow was furrowed, eyes poised straight ahead, like those of a statue. His weapon seemed much more relaxed, but the uneasiness wafting off of her was nearly palpable.

"Some of them are expecting this to be the day that they assign technicians and Demon Weapons to their first official missions," Maka said beside him, flipping through her textbook with a bored expression on her face. He glanced at her expectantly, raising an eyebrow. "It's why some people seem really nervous."

"What makes you think that I care?" Soul drawled.

"Because I can sense it in our wavelength," she remarked casually. He groaned at this answer—lately, his meister was obsessed with practicing as much as she could with their connection, and, admittedly, while it was quite strong, it lacked in precision. It could shut off without either of them knowing sometimes, and other moments Soul would simply cut it off, like bringing scissors to a ribbon, without telling the girl. He wasn't a particularly huge fan of doing this, but whenever she was anxious or needed a break from reality, he knew that having his own emotions reflecting on her conscience wasn't going to do either of them favors.

"You read too much."

Maka huffed. "You only think that because you don't read _enough_." She swept her gaze over the massive collection of students, suddenly flashing back to the time where she stood in front of most of these same faces, brandishing Soul's Demon Scythe form for the first time. "This all seems too similar to the first week of the school year."

Soul dipped his head. "I guess." His fingers drummed against the desk. His throat was already running dry from dehydration, and the clustered mass of people started blurring together, like watercolors bleeding across paper.

Ten minutes of boredom turned to twenty, and it still droned on like eons. Patience was not one of Soul's main virtues, unless he could distract himself. With the edgy figure of his meister at this side, he couldn't relax. He snapped out of his daydreaming, watching as a giant hush fell across the student body. Behind the massive podium of ivory and rosewood stood Lord Death, unreadable as ever.

"Good afternoon, meisters and Demon Weapons alike!" Cheers erupted from the crowd. Soul rolled his eyes; he really didn't care about this. A headache was already forming, and he had an urge to rub his temples and take a walk outside, just to avoid the tight cluster of babbling people. "Today is a big day for quite a few lucky students. For those of you who know, new staff members will be brought onto Shibusen's team within a few days."

Maka sighed. "Knew it."

"And, as something that _none_ of you should know…" Lord Death continued, and his tone suddenly turned much more serious, grabbing Soul's attention. "The regime for first-year partnerships will be changing."

A chorus of interested whispers cracked the students' silence. Maka's brow furrowed in concentration, hanging onto Lord Death's words. She turned to her partner, her gloved hands grasping the spine of her book even tighter than before. "Something tells me that it isn't an entirely positive adjustment."

Soul kicked his legs up on the countertop, ignoring the protests from doing so. He shot Maka an uncaring look. "I doubt it'll be that different from before. He's kind off his rocker, from what I understand. Not cool."

"There will be a series of tests and trials that the staff of Shibusen has constructed and polished, according to the goals that are needed to be met."

Death the Kidd stepped forward from being briefly hidden behind the pillars. His Demon Weapons are standing idly to the side, looking disinterested and just as serious as their meister. He looked just as pristine and well-kempt as he was before, his shoulders rigid, his hair meticulously combed, and the jet-black shade of his suit contrasting brilliantly with those feline eyes.

Every time she saw him, Maka had to wonder what his true purpose was on Shibusen grounds. As the possible successor to his wildly successful (and somewhat insane) father, he had to be following his footsteps in the manner he considered to be necessary. She wasn't sure how she felt about him, but he seemed a much more sane person to talk to, at least in comparison to people like Black Star.

"My son, as you've seen him plenty of times before I'm sure, has been studying vigorously through old traditions and the ways of Demon Weapons and technicians over a great span of history. Over the last several weeks, we have all met, staff and myself alike, to talk about what we're planning to do with this newfound information and a fresh, innovative system. This, of course, is what we're going to be discussing today for the assembly."

Kidd cleared his throat and tapped the microphone. "For centuries, Demon Weapons and the humans capable of wielding their powers, and connecting their wavelengths, has been a practice that we've now adopted in a way that seems almost military. To replicate the powerful demonstrations of the old, I've suggested to the Shibusen Headmaster that we will be hosting an upgraded, fresh take on a Harrowing will be a great introduction for first-year meisters and weapons."

Only a few students from the crowd seemed to know what a _Harrowing_ was, and Soul noticed the instant disruption in his partner's emotional wavelength. He glanced at her, noting the slight vacancy in her olive orbs. Her teeth were lightly grinding, beads of sweat building on the nape of her neck.

"That's… so weird," Maka murmured.

Soul snorted. "What the hell is a _Harrowing_?"

Maka rolled her eyes. "I swear; you fall asleep in every single class that you take with me." She scowled, her nose scrunching up, briefly reminding Soul of a pissed off rabbit. "The Harrowing Trials were a series of ancient competitions that meisters and weapons competed in to prove their wavelength connections and other abilities. They were like demonstrations, sort of. I don't know why Lord Death would want something like that in the training regime for first-years." She turned to Soul uncertainly. "That means…"

"Of course, the traditional Harrowing Trials were a bit extreme, according to the time periods concerned. As this is going to be performed in the proximity of the school, I will clarify on some of the changes." Kidd whipped out a stack of documents and a pair of glasses that his blonde weapon brought to his attention. "Thank you, Patti," he muttered briefly, before turning back towards the assembly. "The Shibusen Harrowing Trials for First-Years will encompass only _two_ competing teams, personally selected by the staff to test their abilities and set them out through marked territory. There will be checkpoints, certain objectives laid out for both parties, and so forth. This will all be organized by the staff."

Soul's mouth quirked into a smirk. This sounded more than interesting. He nudged Maka, dipping his head and allowing his confidence to roll through their connection. She stiffened, yet groaned at the easy cockiness that he exuded from being exposed to competitive tests like this.

Maka expected that he would thrive on the idea of the Harrowing alone.

Kidd continued after another quiet hush from the staff separated the crowd from his introductory speech. "The Harrowing will count as their first mission credit, and, as expected, will be leveled danger-wise to the ability of the selected parties. Both will be placed in separate locations with similar objectives, all having to do with slaying creatures, avoiding traps, and eventually reaching the target, A.K.A, the 'finish line'."

Many students erupted into excitement. Maka swallowed, a lump trapped in her throat. She wondered if what she was hearing was going to apply to her at all; she shouldn't be worrying about this, not right now. The Harrowing would be a huge opportunity for students to demonstrate their power in the best way.

"In addition to this," Kidd began, fingering the last few pieces of paper, "the team that successfully completes the Harrowing will be awarded their first star ranking, and five mission contracts that are untouchable by the remaining student body."

This whole thing sounded like a goldmine for the ideal dream teams.

Maka felt the hidden urges to compete start to rise, and whether that was due to being around Soul was a mystery to her, but the feeling was there nonetheless. The Harrowing would surely help her with her ultimate goal, the lifelong dream of becoming a successor of her mother's legacy. And Soul would be closer to whatever he considered to be his dreams, if he had any, since he never elaborated with her. He agreed to become her partner for reasons undisclosed, but for now, their personal motivations would pull them forward.

She needed to do this. _They_ needed to do this.

"Thank you, Kidd," Lord Death cut in. His son stepped off the podium, a blasé mask adorning his youthful face. "We understand that this may be a bit overwhelming to hear, especially with the 'surprise' factor tied into it. But I'm sure all of you can consider this to be exciting news."

Plenty of first-year students were griping with excitement. They would fight tooth and nail for those two team spots in the Harrowing. That much was clear.

"Alright, alright, I'm not done! There's a catch to this."

Soul straightened slightly, and within that moment, he instantly caught the glare of Death the Kidd. Burning gold met calm crimson. The Demon Scythe felt the radiating authority dwell between the contact, like a snaking river. He grimaced beneath the weight of the glare and abruptly broke the staring contest, growling.

What was _that_ all about?

He turned his attention to Lord Death, the headmaster waiting patiently until the noise died down once more. The tension built within the stretched out silence, and the staff members of Shibusen standing off to the sides seemed immune to the effect. Maybe because they knew exactly what Lord Death was about to say.

"We have already selected the qualifying teams for the Harrowing."

A chorus of jeers and shouts of disappointment shock-waved the assembly hall. Lord Death shook his head, and if he had a human face, he would have been rolling his eyes.

Maka blinked in shock. "They already picked them?"

Soul crossed his arms. "That's what he said, Pigtails."

Still, there was something that made him uncomfortable about the way Kidd had stared at him. It was clearly planned… a hidden agenda, flashing behind glass orbs the color of amber. He was tempted to tell Maka that they should leave before anything happened, the uneasiness sitting on his empty stomach.

"The first team to participate in the Harrowing will be of my son, Death the Kidd, and his Demon Weapons, Patricia and Elizabeth Thompson."

Soul rolled his eyes. _Benefit of being the headmaster's son…_

"And the second team—"

" _Wait_."

Lord Death paused in his announcement, searching the crowd below the podium. "Which one of you interrupted my extremely exciting speech?" He chuckled, but the sound was more hollow than expected. He was not amused, and in Lord Death's case, that was especially a rarity. No one would want to unveil his _unpleasant_ side.

"Right here!"

The source of the voice was revealed within a circle of rapidly moving people. The students moved aside, confused whispers dancing through the pool of clothes, wild hair and disjointed wavelengths. Standing there was the one and only Black Star, his fists clenched at his sides, dressed in a white muscle shirt and trousers, looking surprisingly normal, even with his torn sneakers and unkempt spikes of blue hair.

Tsubaki, as always, was by his side, and looked positively _mortified_. "Black Star…?"

Black Star raised one hand, pointing directly towards Lord Death, his eyebrow twitching ferociously, as if suppressing the immense surges of power circulating through his system. If anything, he was a bottle of combustible muscle tissues and idiocy, ready to explode with the slightest disturbance.

"Why would you only have two teams?"

Lord Death paused, seemingly indifferent. "… I'm always open to suggestions, Black Star. Especially from students of your caliber and success _outside_ of the classroom. This was an executive decision by the entire staff."

Black Star grunted, folding his arms and not breaking away from his glare. "Headmaster, Tsubaki and I deserve to be a part of this. Add a third team." He sounded much more serious than he did normally. Each word was intense, focused, and delivered with an essence of maturity that no one would associate with his character.

He wasn't doing this just for his own gain. Maka could sense that he believed this to be an opportunity for both him _and_ his weapon. He was insulted on both of their behalves.

Tsubaki's head was bowed low, her cheeks tinted pink.

An awkward silence enveloped the hall. Not one person spoke another word. Soul watched the figure of Black Star with a curious expression, cautiously ignoring the startled expression that Death the Kidd currently wore.

Lord Death suddenly burst into laughter. Black Star blinked and raised an eyebrow, puzzled. "Oh, you amuse me, Black Star! Very well, you will be the third team in the Harrowing. I'm quite impressed with your attitude. Though this will not be easy. You must understand that."

The meister dropped his façade and screamed in joy, laughing in victory. "HAH! I knew it! You couldn't leave out the godly Black Star and his trusty Demon Weapon! You won't be disappointed, Headmaster! Tsubaki and I will give them a run for their money!"

Maka blinked. It amazed her that someone like him could actually convince the Headmaster of Shibusen to change his _formal decision_ with a simple request… She glanced up, watching the figure of Lord Death stiffen, seriousness clouding him for the umpteenth time that afternoon.

"However, I was not finished announcing the teams that will participate. Black Star and Tsubaki, while they have been added, are to join the two others that I have selected. My son, Kidd, will be one of the teams opposing Black Star and Tsubaki, as mentioned earlier. And the second team…"

Maka sighed. "Let's go, Soul."

He looked at her quizzically. "Thought you'd want to hear the rest of this."

"They didn't pick us," Maka muttered bitterly. "The odds… they're not in our favor. You know that—"

"Soul Evans and Maka Albarn will be the third team participating in the Shibusen Harrowing."

Soul and Maka snapped their heads in the direction of Lord Death, suddenly swamped with attention as hundreds of faces suddenly turned towards them. The expressions on each student's face ranged from envy to gratitude to surprise; a melting pot of reactions.

Maka's eye twitched—she couldn't believe this, but she would be lying if she couldn't feel the enjoyable thumping of her heart against her ribcage. Gooseflesh trailed her skin, as realization fully consumed her mind.

She and Soul were now a part of this. This could be their chance.

Soul kept his cool expression unmoved, lips set in a thin line. "Well, looks like we're going to be pretty busy."

Maka would have laughed if she weren't so distracted. "Understatement of the century, Soul."

It truly was.

* * *

 **~ 000 ~**

* * *

Soul didn't know what to expect when the assembly hall finally cleared. The room already seemed much larger than it was before, when only he and a couple other meisters and weapons were present. To be standing so close to the Shibusen Headmaster was a little unnerving, but he was more than capable of keeping his composure. He sensed the dimming apprehension within his meister's wavelength; she was extremely happy to be selected.

He couldn't hide his smirk at this revelation. Perhaps they were more alike than she gave them credit for; the competitive drive was there. She wanted to be the best, and this Harrowing would be that exact opportunity to do so. He didn't know what was in store for them, but to hear their names echoing through the hall, signing them up for a test that was now out of their control… well, needless to say, it gave him a thrill.

He had the overwhelming urge to make some fellow meisters eat their fucking words. He wasn't the _biggest_ fan of Black Star, but the fact that they were going to face each other head-on during this series of tests was prickling his skin. His hands were shoved deeply into his pockets, his expression unchanging, but his mind was bouncing back and forth, drifting from one violent image to another.

"Alright, then," Lord Death announced. Before him stood the three teams, though Kidd remained at his side. "Three teams. With one extra team, the objective will remain the same. This is a grand opportunity for all of you."

Kidd's hands clasped behind his back, wordless and serious.

The Thompson sisters looked more bored than ever before, not exactly reflective of their transformation forms; twin revolvers were interesting enough, but they didn't have the same spitfire edge. At least, not with Elizabeth's bored examining of her fingernails and her sister's distracted daydreaming.

Soul didn't feel particularly threatened.

Black Star smirked, apparently all too _pleased_. "We obviously know who the winners are. You're looking right at 'em, Lord Death!"

"The energy will aid you in this competition," Lord Death said quickly. "I have chosen all of you based on your skillsets, attributes on the training field, and your drive for success. All of you are capable of winning the Harrowing. But, it will be extremely difficult. You have only two weeks to prepare for this grand test of your talents and bond with your partner."

Maka bristled. _Only_ two weeks? "Lord Death," she said suddenly, surprising her partner, "what will this test be like? What should we expect?"

Soul honestly didn't think she would say a single thing during this meeting; she was so distracted already. What more could she bring to the table?

Lord Death chuckled. "I enjoy your enthusiasm, Maka. You're a lot like your mother." He cleared his throat. "The only thing I am allowed to tell you all is that you will be placed in separate areas and tasked with the same tests, but in different situations. The territories will be random and you will not be allowed to contact anyone during the trials. The Harrowing is, however, a test that is meant to be controlled in mystery."

He examined Maka's distraught expression, but she kept her mouth shut.

"I have full faith that each one of you can accomplish the Harrowing. However, only one will win, and the test will span over three days."

Kidd raised one hand, drawing the others' attention to him. "I am a part of this Harrowing, yes, but I have no knowledge of the actual structure of the tests themselves. My father and the rest of the Shibusen staff constructed everything without my knowing, so it's fair for all of us. I'm in the dark as much as you are."

Tsubaki nodded, cutting off her meister, whose mouth was open to interject. "Thank you for saying that. I'm sure that we'll all be respectful of one another. I'm looking forward to this."

Black Star pounded his chest. "Oh, _yeah_ , we're more than ready! We don't even need those two weeks!"

Lord Death laughed. "Well, the energy is definitely there! You are all dismissed for the afternoon." He waited patiently, watching as they turned their backs and started leaving for the assembly hall's exit. After a few quiet moments, he spoke. "Except for you, Mr. Evans. I would like to speak with you privately."

Maka blinked in confusion, turning around to see her partner stiffen. He slowly pivoted on his heel, raising an eyebrow, but carefully keeping the same expression of disinterest and boredom present.

"Sure."

Maka frowned, reaching out to grab his wrist. The contact of her skin against his took him off-guard; he looked at her blankly. "Do you want me to wait for you?"

His brow slowly furrowed, his crooked grin fading. What was she so worried about? He could feel her anxiety travel through their wavelength, and he suppressed it without much of a problem. But, still. Having her freak out on his behalf was not cool. "No. You should go ahead. I might fall asleep in class anyway. I'll need you to take my notes." He dodged her flailing fist, smirking knowingly.

She rolled her eyes. "Fine." She briefly nodded towards Lord Death before leaving.

Once the door closed behind her, Soul turned his attention to the Shibusen Headmaster and his son. With a brief nod, Kidd also departed, the Thompson sisters in toe, though the way he walked made it seem like this was all planned.

Soul carefully placed his other hand in his pocket, feigning casualness. He glanced off to the side. "So, what's this about?" he muttered.

Lord Death paused for a moment, as if observing him. Already, the situation was turning rather uncomfortable. "I have a feeling… that there's a lot more to you, Soul, than you would prefer for me to know."

And then, Soul's disposition changed. His shoulders straightened, his head whipped around to face the unreadable, skeletal figure of authority. He could feel his heart rate pick up. The red of his irises seemed to turn even more vibrant, alive with demands, with curiosity that was not in his place to make vocal.

"… I have no idea what you're talking about."

Lord Death tilted his head to the side. "Come now. I'm not going to tell another person about what you are. I had a suspicion since your first day here. After some recent excursions and studying, I've come to a conclusion that should have been more obvious with my years of experience." He chuckled. "Funny. I feel so terribly old now."

Soul's frown deepened. "I'm a weapon like any other, a Demon Scythe. You already know that. Everyone knows that. Big fucking deal." It was not intelligent of him to curse in front of the Headmaster, but if his suspicions about Lord Death's words were correct…

"Let's not waste each other's time. You know that there could be serious consequences, lying to the headmaster." Lord Death's tone had turned frigid. "You're familiar with the regulations of this school, how the _laws_ regarding Demon Weapons and meisters have changed over the last couple of centuries."

Soul's fingers twitched inside his pockets. "Yes, I'm _familiar_ with them."

"Then you understand that, with what you are, I could have you expelled, or, worse, arrested and possibly _executed_. Now, those are the extremes, of course, but there's a reason these laws exist" Lord Death came closer to him, and Soul dared not look away or try to move. Here and now—this was important, gripping him to the core with icy claws. "You are an immense danger to Maka Albarn."

Soul's mouth went dry. "I'm not like the _others_."

Lord Death reeled back. "Oh?" He seemed satisfied, as if this was confirmation for his suspicions. "I assumed that you were already, Mr. Evans. Which is why you are still a student at my school, and still associated with Ms. Albarn."

Soul snorted. "You don't believe me."

"Because I believe I know the truth. The intense power that you've radiated since the first day you've arrived, and the clear distortion between you and your partner's wavelengths are off the charts. It's unlike anything I've seen for a long, long time. No one of your age and stature has such power, and on top of that, you are a Demon Scythe, one of the rarest of all Demon Weapon breeds." The skeletal face lowered, as if pondering in the brief moment of silence held between them. "I know that if you were a threat to Ms. Albarn, you would have destroyed her by now. Just the sheer disruption of your wavelength against hers would overpower her soul and tear her apart from the inside-out."

Soul blinked. He grasped those words, repeating them over and over again in his head, a growl rising in his throat. "So, Headmaster, you have nothing to worry about, then."

He was walking on a _sea_ of eggshells at this point.

"You have done well with attempting to hide your true nature. There is a reason you didn't connect with anyone. I sense that you are not an evil person, Mr. Evans. However, I do know about your history. I've seen your records. I do know that you're a danger to the student body, and yet, you protect Maka like a traditional Demon Weapon, like someone unlike the rest of your species."

Soul was sick of dancing around the bush. "Just tell me straight-up what you think, then." He raked his hand through his hair. "And why would you even bother putting me in the Harrowing if you think of me like this?"

Lord Death chuckled. "I'm sure you know the answer to that." He shrugged. "I will not speak of this conversation to anyone else. This meeting is only between you and me. I can promise you that."

 _He makes no fucking sense._ But, somehow, he knew. He _knew_ what Soul was. Even if he didn't say it directly, he knew his secrets, and for some forsaken reason, Lord Death was allowing him to continue to traipse through the halls of Shibusen with his head held high, partnered with an oblivious pigtailed girl who had no knowledge of the truth.

"A word of advice, however, before you're dismissed."

Soul's eyes narrowed into a glare. "Oh, great, I wonder what else you have to say that's so _motivating_."

Lord Death swooped down, inches from the Evans boy's face. "You will find yourself in a better position if you tell Maka the truth, and nothing _but_ the truth. She is your meister. She understands." He leaned back once more, his following words turning grave. "After all, she is forbidden to leave your side. Whether she views you as a threat to her or not won't matter in the end."

Soul had no response to that. What more could he even say?

The Shibusen Headmaster bowed, clapping his gigantic white hands together, as if pleased with their discussion. "You may take your leave now, Mr. Evans. I look forward to your performance in the Harrowing."

* * *

 **~ 000 ~**

* * *

Maka stabbed a poor representation of a serving of raviolis, popping one into her mouth and chewing distractedly. As she expected, it lacked salt, but the balance between the cheese-stuffed pasta pockets and her glass of ice-cold water was more or less therapeutic.

She needed whatever she could to help process the last few hours.

She was too riled up from the earlier events, her thoughts drifting between tonight's dinner (which she was currently having _alone_ ), the stacks of homework cluttering her desk, and the fact that her partner still wasn't home yet.

She hadn't seen Soul since the three chosen teams for the Harrowing were excused form the assembly hall. She thought about Black Star, about Tsubaki, about Kidd and his weapons that were clearly talented in their own right, and the fact that they would all be competing against each other soon. This was an amazing opportunity, but she knew that she and Soul were not ready in the slightest.

Did they have potential? Most definitely. But raw talent would only get them so far.

The door opened. Soul sauntered through, kicking off his tennis shoes and rubbing his face, exhaustion weighing down his eye sockets. He glanced over towards Maka, just now noticing the scent of food wafting in the kitchen, and listening to the growing hunger in his stomach. He sighed; too much was going on right now.

But, Maka cooked.

"I know that it was your turn tonight," she said suddenly, taking notice of how tired he seemed to be. "But, yeah, I didn't want to wait. Help yourself."

Soul's eyes briefly took in her appearance. Her dishwater blonde hair was let loose, falling gently past her shoulders in a simple wave. She looked focused, vigorously eating her probably-better-than-average raviolis, while sporting periwinkle, pinstriped pajamas. Her cheeks were still flushed from heat—she'd probably taken a shower no less than twenty minutes ago.

He just… watched her. His eyes flickered down to the slight opening on her chest, where the top three buttons remained apart, showing a brief glimpse of the tattoo he'd given her on the first day they met. Her mark.

No, no… it was _his_ mark: the signature of their contract, the proof that Lord Death would need to pinpoint exactly who and _what_ Soul Evans was.

"Soul?"

He blinked, looking up to meet her curious green eyes. "Yo."

She raised an eyebrow, hand paused on her notebook. "Are you alright?" She sounded more confused than concerned, while she was simultaneously welcoming him into her distracted and bouncing wavelength. He sensed her anxiety, her rapidly changing attention span and ridiculous perfectionist needs. But, through it all, he felt her concern, her subconscious thoughts that trailed back to _him_.

Soul didn't respond to her question. Like a statue, he stood there, absorbing the details of her essence and listening to the pounding of his own thoughts.

"… Don't you like pasta? I thought you said you liked pasta. Oh, my Death, are you telling me now that you don't like pasta? Seriously?" Maka groaned in over-exaggerated agony. "I can't make dinner that only I will like! I'll just have to give the leftovers to Papa, then—"

"Does it bother you?"

Maka paused in her rambling. "Huh?"

Soul rolled his eyes. "I said, 'does it bother you'." He gestured with a slight dip of his head towards her chest. She blinked, glancing down and blushing furiously, closing the top of her shirt and grabbing a fork, pointing it towards him accusingly.

"Are you making fun of my breasts again?!"

"Ye—wait, _what_? _No_ you idiot! God, Maka, I'm talking about the fucking mark on your chest!" He groaned. Really, sometimes she was too ridiculous.

She blinked, and her eyes clouded in realization, her entire disposition changing. "Oh." She watched him closely, shrugging. "Not really. I only notice it if I'm getting ready for a shower, or changing clothes. You know, the usual. Sometimes it can burn when you're going haywire during a sparring session, but other than that it doesn't bother me." She quickly turned to her plate, scarfing down another ravioli.

Soul eyed her blankly. "… You're lying."

"Am not," she retorted sharply, her left cheek still stuffed with half-eaten clumps of pasta and cheese.

He sighed. There wasn't a point in arguing right now. He spent the next few minutes grabbing his own plate of raviolis, mentally reminding himself to at least do _something_ to thank her for dinner… shit, he wasn't heartless, at least.

"What bothers me is that I have this mark on my body, and I'm forced to keep a secret regarding our contract, and you still haven't told me _what_ you are."

He paused, the grip on his plate loosening. He glanced over his shoulder, now seeing that she had turned in her chair, her expression completely serious. Her brow was furrowed, her hair slightly frazzled and draped over her shoulder, and her eyes were burning. They wanted answers, and they wanted them now.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, tempted to slam his free fist on the counter. "You waited outside the door. You heard everything."

"I heard some of it," she confessed. "I know that it was wrong. I told you I wouldn't eavesdrop. I shouldn't have. I left because I wanted to hear the truth from you and you alone." She hesitated, turning away from his frustrated glare. "So, I wanted to tell you that, whatever Lord Death said about you, or whatever he learned about you… that, some day, I hope you trust me enough to tell me everything. But for now, I've decided that I can't force you to do anything." She then stood up, walking over towards him and closing the proximity.

Seeing her so close made him remember just how tiny she was, how easily the fire lit up in her eyes. He lowered the plate on the counter, searching her face for any indication as to what she was thinking.

Slowly, she grasped his left wrist, tentatively placing his palm on the space where her mark pulsed beneath her shirt, the buttons still undone. The slight brush of her skin under his sent a shiver down his spine, but he couldn't pinpoint why. His wavelength reacted anxiously to touching the mark, relishing in the current gentleness of her aura.

"We're in this together." She cracked a tiny smile. "We'll win the Harrowing, and show the others that we're meant to be the greatest team that Shibusen's ever seen."

Soul felt his chest constrict with… something _warm_ , inviting, like igniting a small furnace beneath his skin. He couldn't suppress the surge of an emotion unlike any other he'd felt suddenly dance in their wavelength. It was foreign and new, birthed from this companionship that he didn't know what to expect from at first.

And she felt it too.

He looked at his meister… at this insane, rebellious, emotionally haywire brat with flailing fists and overtly aggressive habits. She was a lot of things, but there was one thing she had that he didn't.

Honesty.

And then, he knew exactly what that hidden emotion was. _Trust_.

"Yeah," Soul said suddenly. Maka blinked as he took his hand off her chest, the casual smirk she was so accustomed to returning to his face, curving the edges of his mouth and revealing his shark-like teeth. "Let's kick some ass, partner."

And Soul Evans decided that, even when he wanted to tear off her pigtails with his bare hands on more than one occasion, he was damn _lucky_ to have a meister like her.

* * *

 **Gosh, I love writing them. :)**

 **Thank you so much everyone for the reviews/faves/alerts! I'm glad you're enjoying this story and what's going on so far! I'm excited to finally introduce the Harrowing, and if you have any questions, PM me as always.**

 **Thanks everyone and please leave a review if you'd be so kind. :)**

 **REVIEW GOAL COUNT**

 **40 – 50**

 **I think it can happen. We'll see. ;P I hope you all enjoyed this chapter!**


	7. Training Day

**His Meister, Her Weapon**

* * *

 **Summary:** _Whether it was destiny or luck, she couldn't decide: a chance meeting, a demonic grin, an unbreakable contract and, suddenly, Maka's soul was no longer hers. – A darker retelling of Soul Eater –_

 **A/N:** _Here's the next chapter! This is where things start to get rolling. Some pretty exciting things planned for this story! Hope you all enjoy! :)_

* * *

 **6**

Training Day

* * *

Franken Stein was not the type of person to engage in small talk. To him, it was all or nothing; in his opinion, they could either take the train to an interesting topic and discuss the meaning of life or the purpose of science, or take a hike in the opposite direction.

And they would be trailing far, far, _far away_ from him.

His philosophy hadn't diminished over the years—if anything, this core belief only continued growing. However, refusing to have brief, introductory conversations made it nearly impossible for him to meet anyone new. When he was welcomed back onto Shibusen's campus, he hardly recognized the brand new décor, the colorful banners draped along the walls and spicing up the hallways in brilliant shades of mahogany and gold.

"Fancy seeing you here again."

Stein's tongue clicked. He recognized the voice instantly. He turned on his heel, making direct eye contact with a woman—a ghost from his past, a person who formerly twisted her relationships that were once stable and good-natured, and turned them into vicious foundations. Others wouldn't care to observe her past her willow-slim figure, the deep olive blonde hair and the hypnotizing golden eyes; she was beautiful—she was always attractive in some way.

Memories flashed and disappeared before Stein's eyes, and he ignored them as soon as they came. Chuckling, he eyed the white lab coat, the clipboard in the woman's hands, and her casual, secretive smile.

"I would guess that Lord Death informed the entire staff that I would be coming soon." He turned to the clock, shrugging. "Guess I arrived later than I should've. Working after-hours like you always did, Medusa?"

She mirrored his shrug, as if teasing him. "Putting in some extra time always does the body good. I actually have some research I've been meaning to attend to." She pondered, her smile widening in a friendly, welcoming manner. "You can join me in my research if you'd like. Like the old days. Studying, just the two of us, relishing over the new discoveries, the intense goals set out for our futures…" she trailed off, eyes glossing over in solemn remembrance. "I consider those moments to be highlights of my young life, Stein."

Stein's smile had already vanished, but it wasn't guilt that caused this to happen. He reached up and turned the screw stuck in his cranium, the carefree grin suddenly returning. "Yes, well, all good things come to an end."

"And then, apparently, they can come back." She looked much more serious now.

Medusa was unpredictable at times, but he knew this woman like the back of his hand, like she was the one experiment that he could mentally dissect whenever he wanted. Their bond was different, and right now, seeing each other after so many years, he felt a hidden knot twist even tighter in his stomach.

"Stein." He hadn't noticed her come so close, but she was a hair beneath his chin, her clipboard lowered at her side, forgotten. "You never told me why you left."

He stepped back. "Let's keep this professional." He needed to be blunt to push her away. She watched him, the steady burning of her irises instantly reminding him why he tried not to be around her for too long.

She was intriguing and held an interesting spot in his life and his memories, but as of now, he wasn't sure whom to trust. He'd sacrificed his own desires in the past for the sake of his partner, and the buffoon ended up running away with a beautiful woman, breaking a law and falling in love.

Ironically, Spirit Albarn _did_ end up convincing him to return to Shibusen. He almost laughed at the thought, the current situation with the woman in front of him completely forgotten.

"I'm assuming you're here to help with orchestrating the Harrowing."

Stein nodded, humming. "Yes. Although, as you can expect, the student body isn't supposed to know of my involvement with the staff and planning the course." He thought the Harrowing was an ingenious idea, apparently stemming from the brilliant son of Lord Death. It didn't surprise him to see this type of solution to their jumbled training programs for first-year students, but he had a sneaking suspicion that Lord Death had other motives on top of that.

" _There is one student that I'm curious to observe for the time being. This series of tests will prove whether he is an asset that can be allowed to remain in the school, or a subject to be terminated."_

They were playing a risky game.

"I am as well," Medusa cut in promptly. She sighed exaggeratedly. "Of course, there's a lot of planning that goes into this. I have my own contribution to the Harrowing that I will be preparing for. Hence, of course, the usual after-hour excursions." She flashed him a charismatic, crooked grin—an expression that snatched his attention many years before. He would be lying if he claimed it weren't at least nostalgic. "I can show you in the lab, if you'd be interested."

He held up his hands. "I'm a bit preoccupied at the moment, but I appreciate the offer, old friend."

If she was disappointed, she was a master at hiding it. "Alright, well it was quite pleasant to see you again, Stein. I look forward to talking to you again." She walked past him, barely brushing his arm with hers, and soon she disappeared around the corner. He heard her heels click in the empty halls; echoes of a woman he wasn't entirely sure he could acknowledge without being suspicious.

 _Hm._

* * *

 **~ 000 ~**

* * *

She flipped through at least a thousand alphabetized folders per day. Tonight would be no exception, but her personal reasons were influencing this evening escapade.

Carefully, Medusa pulled out the files of each student that she knew would be participating in the Harrowing. She'd observed them from afar for quite a while now. She had other motives, other plans that she wanted to introduce to the world in due time. Lord Death was doing his best to keep her busy, however, and that, alone, was driving her insane. But keeping her composure during this moment was what would matter to her in the end.

 _What I would give to just leave Death City._ She rolled her eyes, rubbing her forehead in exasperation. She recognized the names of the contestants of the Harrowing, blinking rapidly at one particular picture that caught her eye.

"Soul Evans?" She raised an eyebrow, opening the manila folder and scoping the relatively blank profile, adjusting her glasses. "Rank is zero stars. Shibusen transfer student, technical freshman credits… but these wavelength levels…" She reeled back. "These are… astounding. Lethal, even." She recalled seeing this boy in action—he was the Demon Weapon of Maka Albarn. "Spirit's daughter, eh?" She chuckled, remembering the several attempts that the lecherous man would make in her presence, especially during her first couple of years of employment at Shibusen. "Interesting choice." She then pulled out the thick stack of papers that described the levels of testing he'd gone through within the first week of attending the school.

She researched that same file for at least half an hour, perplexed as to why a student of this caliber—and possible danger—was being allowed on campus. The file was here, and head members of the staff always checked them before they were given to her. She usually only obtained access to these files if students were ready to take their yearly physical exams.

 _Perhaps Lord Death is rolling the dice on purpose._ She wouldn't find it surprising, in all honesty. He was solid with what he did, and his life experiences judged the extent of his actions. But would he really take this risk? Would he endanger his students with a person with _this_ caliber and ability walking among them?

Yes. He would.

She smirked. Perhaps this white-haired teenager could be of benefit to her during the Harrowing… Besides, she had a solid plan that was destined to go underway, and no one at the school would expect it.

* * *

 **~ 000 ~**

* * *

"This isn't as _godly_ of an idea that I expected, Tsubaki… this is why I have trust issues!"

Black Star was not the least bit happy to see that his weapon brought him to a secluded space in the forests, just outside of the basketball and skating park in Shibusen's backyard. The trees were swept off to the sides; marks of students that paved their skills here before. Tsubaki had insisted that where they were going would be perfect leverage for his "godly" plans of training for the Harrowing.

He did _not_ expect to see Soul Evans and Maka Albarn there as well. The blonde had just finished slicing a tree perfectly down the middle—her technique was flawless, but that wasn't enough to impress Black Star—and bark splinters cascaded off to the sides with each blow from her weapon. Panting, Maka stood up, and Soul transformed back into his human appearance, glancing over the destroyed tree with a risen eyebrow.

"Hm. Overkill, maybe."

"No one's going to miss one tree, right?" Maka grumbled, rubbing the back of her head. Her ears were flushing pink with embarrassment. "I wonder when Tsubaki and Black Star will be here. She said to meet at noon."

Black Star cleared his throat, earning both of their attention. As he'd expected, the infuriating (and yet, admittedly, kind of interesting and _somewhat_ "cool") teenager that was Soul stared straight back at him, but no annoyance flashed in those eyes. If anything, he looked totally unimpressed to see the blue-haired meister; Maka looked far happier than her partner. Maybe she carried both of their positive emotions in one body.

Just the concept was exhausting.

Tsubaki clapped her hands together. "I'm so glad that we all got to meet! This will help for sure with the Harrowing."

"We're _fraternizing_ with the _enemy_ , Tsubaki," Black Star hissed, tempted to whine. "This is a terrible idea…"

"You're exaggerating,"

Maka chuckled, but inside, she could hardly contain her excitement. To spar with Black Star and Tsubaki outside of school hours was a goal of hers that she definitely wanted to meet. Besides, she liked Tsubaki and respected her as both a Demon Weapon and as good company. She was glad that she agreed to set this entire meeting up, and as far as she was concerned, Soul seemed fine with it.

Black Star's left eye twitched. " _Okay_ , well, godly beings such as _myself_ practice with certain strategies that only I can handle! I wouldn't want you guys to know my strategies when we face each other!"

Maka blinked. "I don't think we _are_ facing each other. At least, not directly. It's a test on our skills between our partnerships and our foundations as teams, not against each other in one-on-one combat."

Tsubaki sighed. "Believe me, I've tried explaining that…"

The next twenty minutes consisted of them talking pointlessly about the reasons _why_ Tsubaki talked to Maka about this arrangement without her meister knowing (which included angry rants from the latter), and with a bit of an awkward cloud hanging over Soul and Maka. They just… watched, somewhat amazed, really, how Tsubaki seemed to be the only person that Black Star couldn't annoy to the ends of the earth; she tolerated his every mannerism, his quirks, his flaws…

"Match made in dysfunctional heaven," Maka whispered, blinking.

"Yep," Soul replied, exhaling. "We'd get more things done if we just walked away and did a couple laps while they argued."

"I thought you wanted to do this?" Maka inquired.

Her partner shrugged. "Sure. A nap sounds nice too."

"We haven't even done anything yet…"

"Slicing a tree down the middle is hard work, Tiny Tits." He dodged her wailing fist, casually crossing his arms behind his head. He watched her with an amused smile; she was bristling head to toe like an upset feline. He relished these moments with the admittedly insane pigtailed girl. "Honestly, the Headmaster's son would probably be a better fit for this."

They'd talked about this the night before, actually (after arguing for an hour on who burnt the _damn soup_ ), and his meister was in too energetic of a mood to have her thoughts swayed.

He recalled every detail of their dinner conversation perfectly. Maka was flipping through her notes, obsessively chanting from pages and pages of scrawled messages she'd slapped onto books during class, claiming that they needed to know whatever they could about the Harrowing, including its history, its participants, the origins of the Harrowing, the traditions revolving around the Harrowing. Etc. To say she was obsessed would be a mild understatement.

Soul promptly cut her off—in the middle of the most passionate, honest-to-Death _nerdiest_ ramble _ever_ —stating bluntly that he wanted to get some sleep before making crazy commitments to lifelong studies over… well, historical garble that he didn't give two shits about.

His face became well acquainted with _Harry Potter_ and _Mansfield Park_ soon after.

"Okay, we can train together."

They both turned to Black Star, noting the irritated, yet much calmer, look on his face. Tsubaki looked quite pleased beside him, her lips twisted into a mischievous smile. He huffed like an impatient toddler, refusing to look Soul or Maka in the eye.

"Let's just do this, then. I'm starving, and starving gods are useless for training!"

And so they did. Two solid hours of sparring and constructive criticism, and at the end Maka found that she was craving a bowl of ice cream more than she had in a long time. Her energy was completely sapped, but she refused to show this in front of Black Star, who was casually rolling his shoulders and cracking the bones. He looked at Tsubaki for help, and she assisted him in stretching out some of his sorest limbs, her fingers spreading to areas that would have caused him to yell in protest with anyone else.

Maka watched them quietly. She had removed her black jacket, enjoying There was certainly an air of gentleness that Tsubaki held, like a cloud over her meister. He welcomed it all the time, and, surprisingly, he went along with the rhythm of their wavelength. Maka would have expected them to be the most combustible team at Shibusen, but she saw them now, and knew that this interaction between the two of them was just one example as to why they were one of the best.

"You've gotten faster!"

Maka snapped out of her daydream, flustered. Black Star had approached her and Soul beneath the shade of a tree (one of the few that they _hadn't_ destroyed), wearing a half-crooked smile. She tried thinking of a response to his comment, ignoring the slight mocking look that Soul was throwing at her.

"Um… thanks," she said.

"Hey! You were just complimented by a _god_. Any other person would think that you had something else in mind for a response!" He snorted, suddenly looking _not_ pleased, and the Albarn girl wasn't entirely sure what she even did wrong. "But, your technique is actually pretty good. Even though you guys are a new team." He smirked. "Don't let this get to your heads, though. Tsubaki and I are going to win. We won't let anyone stand in our way."

Soul didn't seem all too interested in the conversation, but his interjection came about nonetheless. "What makes you think my partner and I will just lie on our backs and _let_ you win?"

Maka glanced at him in surprise. To Black Star, or even Tsubaki, the Evans boy would've looked no different than normal, with his usual slouch and stoic frown, but the furrowing of his brow and the slight edge to his tone was something Maka wasn't completely familiar with.

Even the way he said _"my partner"_ sent a slight shiver down her spine.

"Ooohhh, you're asking for a _brawl_." Black Star snickered. "But, eh, Tsubaki's probably tired, so we're going to head back soon." He eyed the two of them, and suddenly, his former disposition of hostility seemed to rapidly fade right before Maka's eyes. "When the Harrowing's over, we should play ball or something. There's an awesome basketball court down the street. You go to Shibusen, so, obviously you've passed it." He shrugged. "Just, yeah. If you want."

Tsubaki overheard and stepped in. "Yeah, please feel free to talk to us whenever you'd like. We're always looking for new teams to spar with, as well as new friends." She was too kind.

Maka smiled and nodded gratefully. "Of course. But, for now," she added, crossing her arms, "we're definitely still competitors. Thanks for sparring with us."

"Any time," Tsubaki answered.

"See you," Black Star added, and he quickly hightailed it out of there—Maka had a sneaking suspicion that he was coerced into having this conversation by his partner, but there were undoubtedly some genuineness in his words. He seemed to be full of surprises, aside from his obvious and rambunctious tendencies.

* * *

 **~ 000 ~**

* * *

Soul was a competitor at heart. Few who knew him from around five years in the past would not have seen this as a surprise, but to those at Shibusen, this fact about his character would be taken with anything _but_ a grain of salt.

Black Star and Tsubaki were competent (and ridiculously athletic) students, and the muscle mass comparison between him and the blue-haired meister was clear, and he already didn't like that. He didn't appreciate the way that the other male carried himself, (with cockiness only akin to the fictional "gods" that he liked comparing himself to) how he looked at Maka with clear superiority in his eyes… it angered him. Normally he wouldn't find a reason to react to something so small, but it ticked him off to no end.

Maka was _his_ partner. Their reputation was shared, and this Black Star character really enjoyed dragging her name in his dust. If her name was soiled, so was Soul's, but honestly that wasn't what currently drove him nuts.

He was tempted to step in between the two meisters and put the other in his fucking place—preferably, with his fists. Black Star already had Tsubaki—if he wanted a fan club, _his meister_ was not going to be a part of it.

But, of course, Maka was totally oblivious to the other male's attention-grabbing mannerisms. Soul had seen gestures like that from his past, from people he would like to forget, but the fact that someone who loved books and learning as much as Maka, the fact that she was so _dense_ when it came to these things, was startling.

It wasn't like he _hated_ the guy or anything… he just wasn't looking to make any new friends. Hell, he was still getting over his differences with his own meister. To him, it was pointless trying to form new companionships, especially in the brew of this competition, which, thankfully, the _both_ of them really wanted to win.

He didn't say anything to her when they left the hollowed training spot. She seemed content, happy, smiling—it was a little weird, but he could let her dwell in her contemplative bubble for a few minutes, before he would have to pop it.

The pink and orange hues of sunset rolled onto the horizon, striping the line of forestry outside Death City. It was peaceful and quiet right now, and Soul swallowed up these blissful minutes of silence with as much patience as possible. Perhaps he overreacted about Black Star, but he wasn't going to let himself get bossed around by someone who _thought_ they were stronger than him.

The foolish blue-haired teen had no idea what Soul could to do to him if given the chance…

"I just realized something."

Soul blinked, casually looking at his meister with a mask of indifference. "Humor me," he said bluntly.

She rolled her eyes, but the slight smile from her earlier conversation with the other Harrowing team was still there. Her cheeks were still pink, probably from embarrassment or something, since she was terrible in most social situations. "Tonight's going to be the first night all year that I have nothing to study for." She groaned. "I don't really have anything to read either…"

"Wow, what a burden. I totally know what that's like. I will gladly sacrifice my own work for your sake." Soul quickly dodged her fist, smirking to himself. It was too easy to mess with her, the amusement lighting up his eyes. He turned to look at her directly, and was momentarily taken aback at her glowing happiness. For a split second, his heart jumped, but he quickly ignored it and turned away.

"But, really," Maka continued, sighing, "I'm always busy. Always working on something—"

"Shocker."

"—And it's _Friday_." Maka's lips slightly curled into a stubborn frown. She looked concentrated, as if studying for a test.

Soul was tempted to laugh—she was a ridiculous nerd, honestly. But laughing would risk him getting slapped or abused with books that she magically pulled out of nowhere, so it wasn't worth the risk.

They walked for a few more minutes in silence. Every now and then, he looked at his meister, noting the slight confusion clouding up her features, and wondered whether it was because he could sense her distraction, or because she was literally _that concerned_ about the fact that she didn't have things to work on when they got home.

"We'll watch a movie when we get back."

Maka looked at him in surprise, raising an eyebrow. "I'm not falling for your pranks again, Soul…"

"Wha—okay, _one time_. You can't take a joke."

Maka shrugged. "Fine, then. What did you have in mind?"

He pondered. "Don't know." It felt weird even talking about this. Why was he even trying to instigate something for them to do?

He was perfectly content in the past just doing his own thing while living in the same space as her. Maka was doing most of their laundry anyway (due to the fact that he _quite possibly_ mixed up her white shirts with his red socks), and coming into contact with his clothing should've made her at least a little awkward. But, no, she looked at him no differently, and they were already adjusting well to living together and, Death forbid, _sharing_.

"Soul," she whispered, grabbing his attention, and she looked quite serious. "Look."

He did. And what he saw was a little bit of a shock—three burly teenagers, probably around their age, or maybe even older, were brutally kicking around a much smaller individual that wasn't putting up a fight. The teens were laughing, and Soul could smell the drugs wafting off them in waves, and he instantly recognized one of them in particular, someone he'd passed through the halls in Shibusen.

He was thick-muscled and intimidating to look at, but to Soul's understanding, he wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed. His sun-browned skin and extravagant, green-dyed buzz cut and motorcycle goggles easily made him stand out amongst the other students. He was a meister, if Soul was recalling correctly, but he didn't care who was with in that particular class—Maka probably knew.

Before he could stop his meister, she was already yelling: "What the hell are you doing?!"

Soul bristled, quickly getting defensive when the beating of the smaller teen stopped, and the other three heads loomed over. The goggled bully smirked, as if in recognition, and strode over to the two of them. He was much taller than them, but his muscle undoubtedly weighed more than his level of intellect.

"Mind your own business," he said, lowering his glasses. He looked Maka up and down, slowly. "We're simply teaching this stupid kid a _lesson_. We meisters have to stick together, don't we?"

Maka stared past him towards the scrawny boy being held up by the arms between two of the other males. She bristled, defiance shining in her olive eyes. She stared up at this ruthless bully, this meister who was more than twice her size and probably weighed an extra sixty pounds more than her, roped in thick muscle.

"You're not a meister," Maka muttered coolly. "Let him go, or we'll _make_ you."

Soul blinked in utter surprise from what his meister was saying. He'd never seen her this angry before—she was oozing contempt and rage. The radiating temper surging in their wavelength was fueling him with the same urge to slug this guy across the jaw without a single ounce of mercy.

"You'll _make_ me? Hey, boys!" The green-haired teen shouted to his lackeys. They both dropped the teen and quickly joined his side. "This little girl thinks that we should _leave him alone_ , like she's a fucking martyr or something." They both laughed beside him, looking relatively normal with their cropped blonde and black hairstyles.

Soul snorted. "You've clearly got some class, picking on an innocent bystander like that," he growled out frigidly. "If you're smart, you'll leave that kid alone, and not other him again." His eyes drifted towards the crumpled mass of black cloth on the sidewalk, and he glimpsed a crown of lavender hair and a collective sound of whimpers. His brow furrowed in curiosity, but he quickly turned back to the thugs, his crooked frown stiff and strong.

"You are both clearly not in our range of skill," the green-haired thug announced. "Name's Marco." He smirked, gesturing to the two teenagers beside him. "And these two idiots are Grover and Fang." He completely ignored Soul, his greasy fingers reaching out and caressing Maka's pigtail. She stepped back, glaring. "I've seen you before, little girl." He chuckled. "You're Spirit's daughter, ain't ya?"

Maka's glare only intensified. Soul could tell that she was trying to distract them as much as possible—let their guard drop before doing anything. "Yes, I am. I'm the daughter of the Death Scythe. But I doubt you three pay attention to important figures in history, even if you go to Shibusen." She crossed her arms. "As far as I'm concerned, you're embarrassments to the school. You're not meisters if you walk around with no honor. You don't _deserve_ to carry that title."

Soul couldn't help but feel an instant swell of pride for his meister.

"Oh, big words for a _cute_ little _whore_."

Maka looked unfazed, but Soul felt the jumble of disruption in their wavelength—those words struck her, whether she would show it or not.

Soul stepped between her and Marco, eyes blazing with fury. His left arm morphed into the long, curved black and red blade of his full Scythe form, quickly bridging the gap between him, Maka, and the three thugs. Marco stepped back, fingers flexed.

"Talk to my meister like that again and I'll slice your dick off and feed it to you," he whispered venomously. And, oh, did he _mean it_. Maka was a lot of things, but a _whore_ was not one of them, and he'd be damned if he let this son of a bitch eye his meister like a piece of fucking meat and accuse her of licentious things.

"Whoa, there," Marco chuckled, holding his hands up. Suddenly, the two thugs beside him transformed into long, menacing whips, and he leaped back, twirling the weapons in his hands. "This wouldn't be a fair fight otherwise!"

Soul growled, ready to charge forward and tear this bastard apart, but the feeling of Maka's fingers on his shoulder stopped him. He turned to her, snarling. "What the hell are you doing—"

"I want to make him pay for what he did to that boy," she said icily. Soul's frown then quickly twisted into a smirk—she was feeding into their sacred connection, fueled by the pulsing in the mark he bestowed upon her skin. "Let's go, Soul. He's going to eat his words."

"With pleasure," he growled out.

In a split second, he had transformed into the elaborate scythe that she she wanted, grasped tightly in her capable hands. She glared straight ahead, at the thug who picked on someone who stood no chance against him. She distracted him long enough to let the purple-haired boy escape without a word, and that wouldn't be enough for Maka.

"Ya'll gonna eat your words, Albarn slut! You and your shark-toothed freak!" He was taunting her on purpose. But why? He'd already signed a contract for a good beat-down (Soul would like to disembowel him, but he assumed his meister would object).

Maka twirled the Demon Scythe in her hands, her eyes blazing with more fury than ever, but, as Soul had expected, it wasn't directed at his comments of her being a "whore", or a "slut", or even related to Spirit Albarn, who had those exact titles linked to his reputation. No, she was replaying the image of the boy being beaten in her mind, feeling obligated to protect him, to make sure that she was defending a person in need.

Soul's toothy grin only grew wider as Maka charged forward and drew him to her side. He could see her determination, her fire, and the blue mark engraved into her skin was glowing with blue and white.

Maka Albarn was a very selfless girl.

Soul would make sure that these three thugs ate their damn words.

* * *

 **The next chapter will be a bit longer, and focus more on some of the other characters, but hopefully you enjoyed this chapter!**

 **I have a new goal! By the next chapter, I'm hoping this story reaches 50 reviews! You guys can do it! Thank you so much for all of the feedback, though! It really helps with motivation and dishing out these chapters. I love writing this story, but having the support of readers and people PM-ing me and asking questions really makes it worthwhile. So, thank you guys for that. I really appreciate it. :)**

 **REVIEW GOAL COUNT**

 **50**

 **THANK YOU EVERYONE AND UNTIL NEXT TIME!**

 **\- Sulfur Dusk**


	8. Final Preparations

**His Meister, Her Weapon**

* * *

 **Summary:** _Whether it was destiny or luck, she couldn't decide: a chance meeting, a demonic grin, an unbreakable contract and, suddenly, Maka's soul was no longer hers. – A darker retelling of Soul Eater –_

 **A/N:** _Hope you all enjoy! :)_

* * *

 **7**

Final Preparations

* * *

Elizabeth Thompson was not the type of person to relish in practice. She liked to sit back and observe, passing her time with reading a magazine, or glancing over social media, or even browsing the status of her nail color and negotiating which shade she should try next—but getting up at five o' clock _sharp_ (with her _much too happy_ sister, Patricia) and being forced to drag herself out of her own bed by her meister was _not_ on the top of her list of "life goals".

She had plenty of other things she wanted to do each week morning, but apparently, Kidd was persistent, even when he clearly had an advantage in the Harrowing over the other teams. They went through training regimes that seemed all-around insane, even for his standards, and by the end all three of them were panting with sweat, though he always refused to admit that he was tired. Patti seemed thrilled to try "brand new obstacle courses", but her legs were screaming with tight muscles and soreness with little preparation time.

Liz felt her desire to even compete in this "Harrowing" thing to wane after just the first day. Currently, she was lying on her back, splayed across the tiled floors of her meister's modified space.

Kidd's obsessive-compulsive behavior had driven him to push the cluttered, old equipment in the garage, off to the sides and making sure that they were all aligned perfectly, just to be sure that the imperfections wouldn't distract him. He set up dummies over a half an hour before waking them up, would relay exactly what they were going to do, and would then perform the routines with them accordingly. He always dropped his guard and let his temper loose if they didn't follow the instructions or routines as _perfectly_ as he wanted.

"Liz, we need to start training. It's Wednesday, so we're going to focus mostly on core and upper body maneuverability." Kidd was talking to her, but she clearly wasn't listening—really, he could be so dense at times.

"I honestly don't really care right now. Can't we do this in like, six or seven hours? Or, hell, maybe we could even take a day off?" Liz rolled her eyes at the rapid, confused blinking of her meister. Her sister, Patti joined her side, plopping down and crossing her legs. "Look. Even Patti's annoyed with this. Your training is crazy, Kidd. We need to rest, too, you know."

Kidd's eyes were shot through with hollow irritation, but it dissipated almost as soon as it came. He looked between both of the Demon Revolvers, his arms crossing over his chest. He swept his gaze over the course that he set up, deep in thought.

"I'm not saying we don't have to at _all_. But a break once in a while is nice. Besides, you said yourself that you're pretty sure we'll make those other teams bite the dust."

Kidd shrugged. "We have an advantage, as well as many disadvantages. There's no harm in adding to our normal routine to help us get better."

Patti smiled. "Yep! I like getting stronger! We'll be amazing in no time!"

Liz smirked at her sister's words, pausing in her daydreaming. "So, why did you bring up the point of this Harrowing thing anyway?"

Kidd pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling. "It's… a long story, really." He thought back, over the thousands upon thousands of pages that he scrolled through in the library, finding the concept of the Harrowing too fascinating to ignore. He went through a private, in-depth conversation with his father, the Headmaster of Shibusen, and the two of them made a mutual decision to make the idea a reality.

"You know, Kidd, you can always talk to us about what's on your mind." Liz shrugged, grinning slightly at the strange look her meister was giving her. "Yeah, I can be a lazy bitch, but you know we're your friends."

Kidd's smirk betrayed any sense of malice. He had a soft spot for his weapons, and they enjoyed his company, whether they would ever want to admit it or not. "There are a lot of benefits in completing the Harrowing, but this is more of a studious procedure than anything. If that makes sense."

Liz blinked, confused. "A study? Of what?"

Kidd sat on the floor, crossing his legs and examining the obstacle course with narrowed eyes. They shone like a cat's feline orbs—precise, and always focused. "It's not that important, just something my father wanted to make clear when we were talking about setting up this competition in the first place. The only reason Black Star and Tsubaki are in this at all is because he felt like being generous."

Patti's lips pursed together. "You mean, your dad picked Soul and Maka on purpose?"

"It wasn't a coincidence. Of course, it had to be planned, but according to my father, they're very important assets to the school. He has his eye on Evans, specifically." Kidd had noticed the interesting changes in the white-haired boy's features almost instantly, scoping him out amongst the crowd and acknowledging the odd wavelengths radiating from his core. It was far different from the essence of other Demon Weapons, and it wasn't just because he happened to be a Demon Scythe, one of the rarest breeds. "He's different. That's the main point that my father wanted to make when we talked about setting this all up."

"What's in it for us if we win, then? I mean, we practically already have a reputation, even though we're still not enrolled, technically." Liz shrugged, already looking bored with this conversation. Patti was distracted by the glimmering color of her new nail polish, and the two smiled and chatted about feminine things, and sometimes Kidd expected they did this on purpose to shut him out.

"My goal is to be the future headmaster of Shibusen, one that is even better than my father. I won't accomplish that goal, or even earn it, if I don't prove myself in a test of will and determination, as well as our strong partnership." He flicked his gaze between the two of them, bestowing his point. "I know that we're perfectly capable of becoming driving forces for the school, but what we are now is currently not enough. My father is not impressed with who I am at the moment."

Liz frowned at this. "What makes you say that?" Her meister seemed taken off-guard that she was bothering to ask him about his personal thoughts, but he turned to look away from her, a thoughtful look crossing his porcelain features.

"It's… hard to explain."

It was the one subject he could never truly express as a concern to his own weapons.

* * *

 **~ 000 ~**

* * *

She'd instructed the fools to make the operation quick and painless. However, those three students—despite her insistence that they needed to be as fast and careful as possible with their proposed plan—wanted to gamble with their own pathetic examples of _powers_. They didn't even qualify as true students of Shibusen in her book. They would've been as useful on the battlefield as legless toads.

 _Speaking of toads_ , Medusa thought begrudgingly, a smirk catching her lips at the sight of a familiar, slender form developing in the shadows. What appeared was a mirror image of her son: draped in black, wearing a crown of lavender hair, and those large, emotional eyes that frustrated her to no end. However, it was not him, and she folded her arms behind her back, intertwining her fingers, as if presenting a symbol to another source in the alleyway, just in case something were to happen.

"That could've been a disaster!" the copy shuddered, and the form shifted and morphed into that of a short, tiny woman with long, gray hair, eyes colored in black and a familiar knee-length dress splashed with white polka-dots. Aside from the ridiculous witch hat poised on top of her head, the most distinguishing feature of hers was the odd pair of spots marking the curves of her mouth, making her jaw appear much wider than it actually was. "There, I did what you want. Are you happy now, you sick witch?"

Medusa chuckled. "I'm surprised that you completed your part of the task with such ease, when those fools couldn't even keep their end of the bargain and make it look like it wasn't a big deal… they were not supposed to instigate a fight." She rolled her eyes. "But, I must say, you did quite alright, _Toad Witch._ "

"I am a frog!" The witch spluttered, her face tinting pink, before her throat bobbed and she released a _ribbet_ , as if to prove a point. "I hate that you do that…"

"I don't think you have a right to complain," Medusa answered simply, looking bored as she picked the crevices of her nails. "So, _Eruka_ , did you notice anything particularly interesting during the encounter?"

She was testing her—she already knew everything. Her precious snakes had slithered around the nearest light post and witnessed the entire ordeal. They could sense the radiation of the Evans boy and the Albarn girl, their conjoining souls producing a pressure that was practically forbidden to mortals. It was fascinating.

"No. They're just two stupid kids." Eruka sighed. "Why did you have me transform into your… son, I guess?" She raised an eyebrow.

Medusa smirked. "That's a secret that you are not authorized to know. So," she said, pausing. "There are some other matters that I must have you attend to. You know, before I can complete my end of the bargain." Her eyes flashed gold, burning with the same venom that belonged to the serpents she controlled. "Are you willing to listen?"

Eruka swallowed. "I… I guess I have no choice…" The moment she encountered Medusa, the exact second she realized she was in contact with a witch that could ring her neck from ten feet apart, she knew she had sealed herself in a horrid companionship. This was not destined to give her a happy ending.

The other woman shrugged. "Good."

* * *

 **~ 000 ~**

* * *

"That _fucking hurts_ —"

"Well if you just _held still_ then it _wouldn't_ —"

"I don't fucking care about that, just quit doing that—OW! Fuck my life! Screw you! Holy shit! Mother of—"

"You're nothing but a baby, honestly…"

"Oh, you're one to talk, Short-stack!"

" _Are you really going to test me right now_?"

Maka Albarn had had _enough_. Her eyes were smoldering steel, as green as the ripest olives, but the fire that dwelled behind them were powerful enough to raise a storm. Her weapon snorted, angrily twitching and forcing his teeth to clench for her to continue.

He decided that it was pointless to argue with her about this. He refused to explain for the fifteenth time that evening that he could easily heal on his own time without visiting a doctor. After their forced encounter with those three ridiculous thugs, he refused to acknowledge the several cuts and gashes along his body, inflicted from those admittedly quite vicious Demon Whips. Of course, as he had predicted, his meister had defended him when she shouldn't have, and acquired several bruises and cuts of her own, but she wasn't paying attention to those.

She was only caring for _him,_ and it ticked him off to no end. How self-righteous could she be? He was downright _insulted_ that she insisted to "tend to his wounds", when she was not the same person as he was. He was a Demon Scythe, she was a mortal girl—albeit, a strong one, but still mortal… the blood that ran in his veins was far different than hers.

Maka couldn't look more frustrated (and surprisingly passive-aggressive) if she tried. She cautiously finished in drawing the silver needle through his opened cut, just above his left eyebrow. She wasn't exactly precise with whenever she _missed_ with the needle, but Soul suspected that she did that on purpose.

"You did it again, when we fought them," she said frigidly, after finally finishing the last stitch. She drew back from him, tilting her head to the side and carefully avoiding the curiosity in his rapidly blinking red eyes.

"Did what?" He growled, snorting. "My _job_? How many times do we have to have this conversation, you idiot?" He was so sick of explaining himself to the girl. She was a brainiac when it came to flipping through textbooks and scrounging her notes for tests, but she was completely clueless when it came to the actions of a Demon Weapon, and their purpose in the world. She was a control freak and believed she had the right to wield him however she wanted, and in _his_ rulebook, that would not be the case. They promised to trust each other better, but as far as he was concerned, she still didn't understand that her role as his meister needed to remain where it was. He didn't want to cross any borders.

He was risking too much already.

"You took control again, without talking to me first." She refused to look at him, putting away the medical supplies that she normally kept stashed in the living room closet. "And…" she trailed off, and he could have sworn he saw a streak of pink dance across her cheeks, like she was… embarrassed?

He blinked, one eyebrow raised. "What?"

"What did you mean? Back there? You seemed really insulted."

Soul frowned. "I'm not following, Tiny Tits." To his surprise, she didn't try to attack him or strangle him. She simply stood up, watching him closely, her eyes drawing up and down his slender form with careful precision. It was as if she was trying to figure out who and what he was, like she was observing an animal she'd never read about.

"When… he called me a whore." She said it so simply, letting it roll off her tongue like she was talking about having breakfast with a gentleman, instead of referring to a stupid lowlife from Shibusen. "That moment, the mark you gave me… it started burning. Like someone was setting fire to my skin." She absentmindedly touched the area above her breast. "I felt stronger, and faster, and I could sense your emotions in our wavelength a lot better than normal. It was kind of like there wasn't a barrier between us. I was trying to figure out afterwards, after we came home, how that could've happened." She turned to him once more, and he was carefully hiding his emotions behind a mask of indifference. She was determined to remove that mask, even if it meant to be as blunt as possible.

Soul shrugged, resting his chin on one upturned palm, his attention diverting to the light switch on the wall. "When you're insulted, I'm insulted. That should answer your question." His scowl deepened. "We share the same reputation now. It's not like I'm going to just prance around and let people talk about my partner like she's pathetic. It makes _me_ look pathetic."

Maka blinked. "Oh."

She looked… disappointed?He wanted to ask her something, but shut his mouth again when he realized that it would be pointless.

"That makes sense," she said curtly. She placed her hands on her hips, as if pondering this theory. "So, this mark reacted because you were insulted. So, in order to tap into that power in the future, I need to somehow get you to have emotional investment. That's what I'm assuming, anyway."

Soul pretended to be fixated on the television remote, his fingers sliding over the buttons, as if pondering what channel he wanted to flip to.

"I don't even know myself, Maka." He sighed, exasperated. "We beat those thugs to a pulp, which was obviously the goal. You wanted it more than anything at that moment, and I guess I reacted to that."

He nearly jumped back when he realized that Maka was now sitting beside him on the couch, her face only inches from his. He blinked owlishly, feeling incredibly awkward, but his heart was slamming against his ribcage, calling for his attention. For some reason, he didn't move, didn't want to glance away from her face. He saw closer details, like the faintest freckles on her nose, the tantalizing stripe of amber that slashed through the normal green of her eyes, and the slight hues of mahogany woven into her plain hair.

What in the _flying fuck_ was she doing?

"If we kissed, would that make this connection stronger?"

Soul blanched. "Wha—what?"

She rolled her eyes, leaning back and releasing an exasperated sigh. "When we first created this contract, you kissed me. It was a horrible experience, we can both agree on that. But that was what created this mark, right? It's some sort of _ritualistic_ thing with Demon Scythes, I suppose." She turned her attention back to him, her brow furrowing in utmost curiosity. "So, I'm wondering, for purely experimental reasons, if we kissed, would that make our bond even stronger? Would that help in generating a better connection during battle? The Harrowing is less than a week away, and we're training well, but if we figure this out, we could win."

He couldn't believe what he was hearing. This crazy woman was probably the only female on the _planet_ who wanted to _kiss another guy_ for _experimental reasons_ , and not even the kind that would be believable! She wanted to make a better connection for the sake of battle, nothing emotionally related. She probably wasn't even attracted to him. And, hell, he had no interest in her whatsoever. She was too scrawny, had a flat chest, those fucking childish pigtails… the list was endless.

Even then, he was over-thinking this situation. Rapidly shaking his head to be rid of that distracting train of thought, he flicked Maka's nose and sat up straight. "You're thinking about this _way_ too much, Short-stack."

She blinked. "Hm. Just a theory." She reached into her backpack—which was promptly set right in front of the couch—and pulled out her books. "I'm going to study on the sofa. Make sure to ice your wound every twenty minutes."

His meister was so strange. _Seriously, the only technician I would pick among thousands happened to be this one._ "Alright."

The next morning, on a quaint, seemingly normal Saturday, Soul had not expected to be greeted by the presence of the most unlikely person to show up at their door. The knocking was incessant, the voice that bellowed through the door could only be equivalent to that of a banshee, and when the Demon Scythe finally managed to scrape himself off the couch (where he'd crashed, unfortunately), and sauntered to the entrance to his and Maka's apartment, he was greeted by the flashing, toothy smile of none other than Black Star.

"…"

" _Good morning Soul Eater_! Ready for another godly training day?! I have a whole shitload of plans that we're going to get through—"

Soul slammed the door in his face, a vein popping in his forehead. He rubbed his temples, wondering how this could possibly be happening on a glorious weekend morning, where he already had plenty of plans… like _sleeping in_.

"… Soul? You still there? Eh?"

The white-haired student twitched. He was extremely tempted to open the door, just so he could wring Black Star's neck. "What do you want?" he answered grumpily. To his surprise, silence enveloped the other end, but he wasn't convinced that the blue-haired meister had left the premises. "I know you're still there," Soul murmured acidly. "Today is Maka and I's day off. We have plans."

"How could you have _plans_ outside of _training_ when it's so close to the Harrowing?!"

"We have lives." It was too early for this. Seriously.

"Is someone at the door…?"

Soul turned and opened his mouth to speak to his housemate, but stopped, momentarily taken aback at the sight of his meister in bright pink, _frolicking puppy_ -patterned, pajamas. She was wiping sleep from her eyes, her hair, set loose from her pigtails, was nothing but a frazzled wave. She looked exhausted.

Why did seeing her like this make him lose his train of thought? He quickly snapped back to reality. _That was weird_.

"The blue-haired idiot is here again."

" _I can hear you_ Soul Eater!" Black Star bellowed through the door.

Maka blinked, incredulous. "It's—it's six-thirty in the _morning_. On a _Saturday_ … what is he _doing_ here?"

"Wouldn't we all like to know," said Soul, with a sardonic roll of his eyes.

Maka's lips pursed together. "What do you want, Black Star?" she called, her throat already straining from raising her voice.

"We need to go training! But apparently you both have _plans_. How could you have plans outside of the Harrowing? I don't understand that! Your methods of going through your Saturdays are pathetic to the ears of a god!"

Soul and Maka exchanged a disbelieving look.

"What did you have in mind?" Maka asked hesitantly, casually opening the door with just a few inches to spare, but with not enough space to let him step into the apartment. She didn't even want to know what was running through the crazy meister's head at the moment. She also couldn't understand how he could be awake this early and even bothering to answer their door—it was freezing outside, and Tsubaki wasn't even with him. _Figures_.

"You'll see!" Black Star chirped, smirking widely and pounding his chest. "Trust me, it's a foolproof strategy for excellent stats! Or, something like that. I don't know. Either way, you should both come. We have the whole weekend!"

* * *

 **~ 000 ~**

* * *

"I fucking hate you, Tiny Tits."

He couldn't believe that she managed to convince him to get dressed before seven o'clock in the morning and actually march right outside their front door, swathed in clothes that he would never normally wear and forced to stare into the surprisingly excited pair of eyes that Black Star held. He needed to summon further restraint from strangling his own meister when she showered, brushed her teeth, popped a piece of rye toast slathered in jam into his mouth and told him that this could be a great opportunity, whatever the hell that meant…

Maka gave him no reply. She was dressed warmly for the bitter temperatures, layered in a brown wool sweater, jeans and, of course, twining up her hair into her usual pigtails. Her torn up tennis shoes were apparently the warmest pair of footwear that she had, and with each passing minute, he noticed her shiver from the cold. He refused to give her his jacket, though—she asked for this, and dragged him out onto the sidewalk without even consulting him for what he wanted.

Maybe this was payback for what happened the night before… but what was he supposed to do? Apologize for protecting her like he always should? If she didn't like the roles that meisters and Demon Weapons were meant to uphold, then she wasn't meant to be one.

Plain and simple.

"Here we are!" Black Star chortled, gesturing with broad, open arms towards a glowing neon sign, attached to a tentative little brick building with two singular chairs out front. Inside, Maka could see the bustling of layered, happy people, and warmth drifted out the open front door in casual waves. She wanted to rush inside and warm her hands, eager to shut out the frigid air.

"What is it?" Soul asked, his mood forever soured.

Black Star glanced over at him, apparently affronted that he couldn't recognize the colors of such a building. It was so small—if they arrived any later in the day they wouldn't haven noticed it amongst the rows upon rows of normal houses. "This is only the most amazing food joint in the entirety of Death City! You guys are insane… it opens up at seven every single weekend, and it has the best doughnuts and pancakes on the face of the earth!"

Soul blinked owlishly. "You… woke us up… at _six A.M,_ to show us a _diner_?" He almost laughed. Almost. "That's fucking stupid."

Black Star snorted. "Whatever. Come on. Tsubaki's already inside." Maka matched Soul's blinks of surprise; she couldn't believe what this blue-haired teenager could convince his weapon to do. "Yeah, yeah. I know what you're thinking, Albarn. Let's go. She's probably already gotten us a table and stuff."

He wasn't lying. Tsubaki was near the back of the restaurant, browsing a laminated plastic menu, and dressed in a form-fitting black sweater patterned in stars. Even now, she looked really beautiful, and Maka felt self-conscious with her hasty outfit and disheveled appearance. She wanted to back out of the restaurant and hightail it back to the apartment, but Soul roughly pushed her forward when she tried stepping back.

"You made me get out of the house. We're dealing with this now." She could _feel_ his cocky smirk, resisting the immense urge to slam her fist into his jaw. Not willing to pick a fight at the moment, she spun on her heel and stalked towards the table where Tsubaki and Black Star were now seated, the male of the two already bouncing like a toddler in the torn leather seats.

Tsubaki smiled gently as they approached. "Good morning you two!"

Soul twitched. _How could she even be awake? The hell are these two smoking?_ "Yeah. Hi." He sat down first, letting his meister take a seat beside him. The air between the four of them grew uncomfortable rather quickly, mostly with Tsubaki still browsing her menu, and her spastic partner starting to ramble about his favorite meals from this "godly place" that matched his requirements in nearly every manner.

"So…" Maka began, feeling awkward. "Is this the—"

"Training regime that Black Star mentioned? Yes." Tsubaki dipped her head. "Since the Harrowing is so close, it was our idea to have you both join us at our favorite diner. Normally it's just the two of us, but we think that it would be good to talk to you about things that aren't related to school. Since, well," she paused, her cheeks slightly tinting pink, "we consider you two to be our friends."

Soul almost choked on his water, spluttering. Friends? He didn't even consider these two to be his acquaintances. He almost stood up and left the booth, tempted to snag his meister by the arm and drag her behind him, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. He couldn't muster the mental strength to complete his temptation because, when he turned to yell at the Albarn girl in order to convince her to leave this stupid restaurant, he saw something he'd only seen one other time.

Her face had been taken over by a widespread, childish, joyful and _beautiful_ smile. It was like he was staring at another person, with the way her lips moved, the way her eyes shined with so much invitation and gratitude, that he could have sworn he felt heartless for even considering forcing her to leave. He blamed it on the connection they shared between the two of them, but more than ever now, he felt an intense surge of happiness and warmth through their wavelength, all stemming from his meister.

He turned away, flicking his pupils towards the fogged windows and taking a swig from his water. He didn't want to bring more attention to himself, especially since he felt his heart running far faster than it had before. What was _wrong_ with him?

Maka was nodding slowly, apparently flustered. "Yeah, um, we consider you our friends too. Thanks for inviting us out here." She didn't know what to say. The concept of being friends with these two had not even occurred to her, but she liked the idea. She _really_ wanted to maintain her Albarn image, but it had frightened a lot of other students away from her during her early times at Shibusen, especially when she was without a weapon. More often than not, she overheard girls praise Soul left and right, either for his "cool" disposition or his "good looks", but nothing was ever brought to her attention about her accomplishments.

It was nice, hearing that Tsubaki and Black Star, two of the most competitive and respected people at Shibusen, wanted to be their friends.

"This is our treat, by the way," Tsubaki continued, her grin widening. Black Star stared at her oddly, and she returned the look. "I'll cover for most of it. Like always." He shrugged, and returned to naming all of the foods that he wanted, which slightly alarmed Maka as to how much the guy was willing to shove down his throat. His stomach had to be bottomless.

By the time the waiter actually arrived to their table, the entrance to the restaurant was flooding through with eager customers, all layered warmly and bellies starving for a comforting, carb-heavy breakfast. Soul had only seen something like that one other time in his life, hidden in the dark places of his past that he never enjoyed venturing to for the sake of nostalgia. He wasn't a fan of his own memories, and he liked to keep those corridors as locked and as far away as possible.

Black Star ordered a baked potato, a dozen mini waffles, all topped with strawberries and whipped butter, and a full serving of steak and hardboiled eggs. Tsubaki settled for scrambled eggs, two slices of sourdough toast, a helping of homemade blackberry jam, and a tiny croissant. Soul insisted that he would repeat whatever Black Star ordered (whether that was to make him pay more or to see who could eat the most in the end, that was up for debate), and Maka settled for a simple black coffee with a hint of sugar.

"You're not getting any food?" Black Star asked, his jaw slack.

Maka shrugged. "I'm fine, really." She didn't want to make them pay too much for them, and since Soul ordered quite a _large_ amount of unnecessary food, she would hate to be the one person to burden them. She was definitely hungry, but she could wait if she needed to.

"What happened to your eye?" Black Star asked, pointing to Soul's stitched eyebrow. He glared pointedly, and winced when Maka stepped on his toes. He growled acidly in response to her, and reluctantly faced the curious male.

"Fight happened yesterday. We took 'em down though. Easy."

"A fight?" Tsubaki asked, frowning. "What happened?"

"It was nothing, really," Maka interjected. "Just a couple thugs. They were beating up some boy and I knew we had to do something, so we did." She shrugged, absentmindedly tucking a pigtail behind her ear. "We're fine, though."

Her ribcage was bruised, of course, but she didn't want to mention that minor detail. Soul could feel the pain she felt in their wavelength, and knew she was lying to him, to try and remain strong as his meister, rather than let their roles flourish the way they were.

Their food arrived shortly after, cramping up the table with Soul and Black Star's enormous orders. Maka blanched at the plates shoved next to her miniscule mug of coffee, watching her partner quickly scarf down his food. He was apparently starving, but with the way the two men at the table were eyeing each other, she could tell this was an unspoken competition. They didn't say a single word, as pieces of meat and egg flew in numerous directions.

The rest of the morning was surprisingly… _nice_. It was low-key, and it felt like a Saturday, like this was a scheduled meeting between good friends. Maka managed to talk to Tsubaki about their experiences at Shibusen, not going into too much detail, but they shared similar opinions on some subjects. Maka could tell with the way that Tsubaki spoke about her meister that she was extremely proud and happy to be his partner and weapon. Maka wondered if she would ever have a relationship like that with Soul… and started to doubt that it would ever occur.

Their companionship was like a rollercoaster of positives and negatives, each side fluctuating to no end. There were times when he acted so strange and out of character that she had to ask him if he was alright, to which he would always say that she was paranoid and worried about other people too much. He criticized her for being "too selfless", which was totally ridiculous to her. She was extremely selfish. At least, that was how she saw herself. His perspective was idiotic.

What was also surprising was the fact that Soul and Black Star, after arguing over who finished their portions first, seemed to get along at some level. Well, in a way that Maka could only assume guys would understand. They bickered about their strength routines, which fighting style was clearly superior, which action movie was better than the other, which actress was more attractive… they laughed and yelled and threatened to kill each other on several occasions, but one thing Maka found for sure, was the surprising level of comfort radiating in their wavelength. She knew Soul was having a good time, whether he wanted to admit it or not.

She would have to thank the two of them for even considering their involvement. The fact that they had to wake up so early was beginning to fade from her mind, and she sipped her coffee in newfound peace.

The waiter returned to their table. Soul glanced up at him—momentarily distracted from mocking Black Star's obsession with his muscles—and quickly allowed a frown to overtake his lips. The tall, slender man with simple brown hair and thick-framed glasses, was clearly flirting with Tsubaki, and as far as Soul was concerned, he was surprised that Black Star seemed very composed.

Because, as far as he could tell, the blue-haired technician was head over heels for his own partner.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, she looks great in her sweater. She always looks great, buddy," Black Star harped, surprising Tsubaki and causing her ears to flush a bright pink. "Get me another potato, pronto." He held out his plate, blatantly embarrassing the waiter, while he nodded and quickly left the table.

Soul smirked. _Huh._

"You didn't have to do that, Black Star. He was nice," Tsubaki whispered, but she seemed delighted at the slight edginess to his voice when he spoke to the restaurant employee. Soul glanced at his partner, noticing that she was in total bliss with her coffee, and probably wasn't even paying attention what just transpired.

He rolled his eyes. _Of course_.

* * *

 **~ 000 ~**

* * *

"I hate that waiter."

Soul hid back an amused grin at this statement. Tsubaki and Maka had left to the bathroom together, which, in itself, was a little strange to the two males, but they let them be. It had already been ten minutes since the same teenager who worked at the restaurant dropped off Black Star's extra potato, which wouldn't be charged to their account. His brow was furrowed in frustration, his fingers clasped tightly around his fork.

"Gee. I wonder why."

Black Star eyed Soul strangely. "I don't get it. People _always_ hit on Tsubaki. Do they not understand that she's partnered with a _god_? I could easily take all of them down, one by one, and she would always root for me in the end. I can always rely on her to be there." He shrugged. "Yeah, mushy stuff, whatever. Breakfast makes me talk more."

The Evans boy laughed, finding that he really was starting to like this guy. They connected on more levels than he originally expected, the former animosity starting to wash away. "I wouldn't know what that's like. You clearly have it bad for her."

Black Star snorted. "Don't think she knows. I'm not ready to tell her yet." He was surprisingly mature with how he handled talking about his partner— _especially_ when she wasn't there.

Soul shrugged, his attention span drifting. "Yeah."

"What about you and Maka?" Black Star inquired casually. Soul nearly spat out his water for the second time that night, glaring at the other man. "What? Dude, she's really cute. Like, yeah, she's not curvy or blue-eyed or a freaking _shuriken_ like Tsubaki, but she's got a lot of spunk. And fire." He grinned widely at the perturbed look that the other man cast at him, similar to twin molten lasers. "See? That bothers you."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Soul answered scathingly.

He didn't want to talk about this. It was strange that his recent encounters with Maka had turned awkward fairly quickly, and with two unwanted conversation topics tackling each other in a row. First, she mentioned the possibility of kissing him for the sake of "betting their partnership" (which was terrifying and ludicrous), and now Black Star was asking him stupid questions. This just wasn't his weekend…

"If you say so." Black Star raised an eyebrow. "You know, no one expected Maka to get a partner. Ever." He popped a bite of his potato into his mouth, chewing contently.

Soul blinked, narrowing his eyes. "What?"

"It's true," the other continued, swallowing. "No one really talked to her. Her dad's a famous Death Scythe, so that would kind of be the only reason weapons would want to partner with her, just for the chance to become a Death Weapon. I always respected her for having the guts to turn down partnerships, since she knew that they were only interested in upping their status quo."

Soul leaned back. Maka never mentioned that to him before. It started to make more sense as to why she was so receptive to the idea of being friends with Tsubaki and Black Star… he was so used to pushing people away; was this why she was so insistent in knowing more and more about who he was and where he'd come from? She was willing to be his partner, and for what gain on her end? He could become a _Death Scythe_ , feared and respected by all, and she…

He frowned. What _was_ she aiming for? He never even asked her. Sure, she'd mentioned wanting to become a powerful technician like her mother, and "continuing the Albarn legacy", but what did that entail in her eyes? Anyone could have said the same thing, with a different context backing up the statement.

"Tsubaki thinks that Maka is too concerned about others." Black Star shrugged. "Women's intuition, she calls it. Don't know what the heck that means, _but_ , according to her, it has to do with knowing what other chicks do and think. Her theory is that Maka's always been the most eager with helping out and stuff. Like, volunteering for special tasks that no one else wanted to do, and she always did them alone because she didn't have a partner."

Soul frowned thoughtfully. He already figured that his meister was a rather selfless person, and it was probably one of the main aspects of her personality that drew him to her. She balanced out how blatantly selfish he was—

He shook his head, inwardly growling. He was thinking of unnecessary roadblocks, again. This was not the time to think about his relationship with his technician. They were progressing substantially, and they were more than capable of competing in the Harrowing. Whether Black Star and Tsubaki were ready for this or not, Soul knew that he and his partner could match them on every level.

That was all that was important.

* * *

 **This chapter actually turned out a lot longer than anticipated, so I shaved off some of it to put in the next one… next chapter is the BEGINNING OF THE HARROWING! So stay tuned!**

 **Also, THANK YOU SO MUCH EVERYONE. I was blown away by the response of the last chapter! Which is the main reason why I'm updating here and now, as an early gift for you guys. Thank you, thank you, thank you so MUCH. Loved reading all of your thoughts and communicating with you. :) It meant so much to me as an author and fellow reader! I hope this addition to the story met your expectations!**

 **REVIEW GOAL FOR NEXT CHAPTER**

 **60**

 **Thanks again guys! :) Hope you all enjoyed this chapter! Feel free to ask any questions as usual, and don't be afraid to reach out to me/PM me!**

 **UNTIL NEXT TIME!**

 **\- Sulfur Dusk**


	9. The Harrowing - Part One

**His Meister, Her Weapon**

* * *

 **Summary:** _Whether it was destiny or luck, she couldn't decide: a chance meeting, a demonic grin, an unbreakable contract and, suddenly, Maka's soul was no longer hers. – A darker retelling of Soul Eater –_

 **A/N:** _THIS IS IT. One of the major points of this story (which is actually going to probably be pretty long… we'll see) starts here! There are going to be three chapters total devoted to the Harrowing Trials. I hope you all enjoy! This was extremely fun to write.:)_

* * *

 **8**

The Harrowing – Part One

* * *

The last week of preparations had all led up to this point. Hours upon hours of grueling training, sweating off the old and inviting the new, and reinventing old techniques and polishing up whatever came to mind dappled the training regimes in heavy clouds.

Word had spread through the school within hours of the announcement that would send off the three chosen teams: Black Star and Tsubaki, Kidd and the Thompson sisters, and, finally, the underdogs that were the least likely to be picked, Soul Evans and Maka Albarn.

Some students bothered placing bets on who would succeed, and some shared their theories on what the Harrowing Trials would actually be like. It was a complete mystery to the student body as to what would entail the majority of the test, but it was shrouded in mystery for a reason. It would be foolish of Lord Death to disclose that information to his own students, when the sole purpose of the Harrowing was to test the cognitive and physical abilities of the respective participants.

The Harrowing would begin in the school's courtyard, but none of the teams were prepared for what they were told to expect. Black Star had attempted to scrounge some leftover information from several professors, and each one shot down his request faster than a judge with a gavel. The only notification that the three teams were able to receive was the widespread announcement that the trials would start at one o'clock in the afternoon, and classes would be cancelled during that time for students to observe the process.

Needless to say, the excitement in the air swallowed up whatever figments of relaxation and concentration that Maka was able to contain. Her fingers were tightly gripped around the pieces of paper in her hands, glancing through brief pages of notes that she was hoping would be able to help her and her partner. She'd studied extensively in the library and at the apartment, using whatever information she could gather about the Harrowing Trials.

"Hey. Relax."

That was the tenth time he'd said that…

Groaning, Maka leaned back and gave her weapon a poignant, anxious stare. She _was_ relaxed, for the most part, but she refused to let her wavelength open up and allow his apparent calmness to radiate into her form. She wanted to learn how to control her emotions and unsettled temperament on her own, without the assistance of her weapon. He was surprisingly adept at connecting their wavelengths and being as persistent as possible—something Demon Weapons were normally _not_ supposed to do with their meisters, but she had gotten used to the fact that Soul wasn't normal, and the last thing he wanted to be in their partnership was _submissive_.

The word was like poison to his ears and eyes whenever he heard the terms in school lectures. If Maka had a dollar for every time he fell asleep during class or muttered complaints about the assemblies they were forced to attend, she could pay for her Shibusen tuition herself.

"You're going to steam up like a teakettle, Short-stack." He was a little glad that she couldn't feel the growing tension from his body, the slight apprehension in facing the Harrowing and competing against two other teams, equally competitive and varied in strengths. He knew that he was perfectly capable of combating against the likes of all five of the other Shibusen students, but if his own meister was feeling unsure of herself, it would be more difficult than he'd originally anticipated.

"We're supposed to be in the courtyard in an hour," said Maka, folding her books closed. "I guess we should get ready."

"For what? We don't even know what's going to be in the courtyard when we get there." He leaned further in his chair, kicking his heels up on the desk and ignoring the twitchy looks from fellow students—mostly from those in a close proximity who were unfortunate enough to smell his filthy shoes. This empty classroom was supposed to be a free-form study hall, so it only allowed him to care even _less_ than normal.

"… Are you skipping class to be here?"

"It's not cool to accuse the innocent," Soul retorted quickly, but his cocky smirk instantly told Maka his true answer. She sighed, but couldn't suppress the amused grin on her lips.

"Uh-huh, because _that's_ the word I would use to describe you. _Innocent_." A brief roll of her green eyes grabbed her partner's attention. He leaned upwards, watching her features closely as she shoved her books away. She looked tired—too tired for what they were about to compete in.

"Why were you up all night?" he asked.

"Possibly." She scowled at him. "Why do you care?"

"I don't," he muttered, his brow furrowing in irritation. "Just thought you were going to collapse in one of your earlier classes. Then I'd have to compete in the Harrowing alone. What good would I be without a technician to wield me?" He grinned in satisfaction once his meister's expression contorted to one that could only be described as stubbornness.

"Whatever, Soul Eater. I'm not going to let you bother me today."

"We're stuck with each other regardless, so…"

He was becoming an expert with dodging her flailing books. He laughed at her flustered behavior, enjoying the sense of superiority that he had over her. Before she could open her mouth and curse him out of the room, an echo blasted through the entire academy, signaling that the bell has already rolled. Lord Death's voice hummed through the corridors.

" _Attention, wonderful students of this lovely academy! All reported teams for the Harrowing Trials should report to the courtyard within a half an hour. That is all."_

Maka bit her lip once the voice faded. Several students surrounding her and Soul started talking about them, the whispers of gossip transforming into an uncomfortable flood.

Soul nudged her. "Let's go."

* * *

 **~ 000 ~**

* * *

Black Star expected to at least see _something_ extravagant… all of the buildup he expected for this event was draining his expectations. After Tsubaki woke him up (four times) in their last class, he was eager to make an appearance as fast as possible, before the other teams, of course. He didn't care that Tsubaki suggested that they should wait for the other professors, since they were fifteen minutes ahead of schedule, but in the courtyard, an assemblage of barbwire was positioned between pillars, blocking off the audience from the eventual contenders.

"There's nothing here," Black Star snapped, his eye twitching. "What kind of a joke is this?! A god such as myself demands an explanation for this!"

Tsubaki was at his side, groaning in misery from her meister overreacting about every single little thing, ever since the moment he first woke up. He'd scarfed down his "mega-protein-madness-breakfast shake" in less than thirty seconds, which was apparently a new record, but she stopped keeping track only weeks after she'd moved in with him.

"This is why I said that we were a bit too early…"

Black Star scoffed. "Stupid."

Tsubaki sighed. She didn't understand him sometimes. "Well, we're here, so we might as well wait." She intertwined her fingers and stood beside her meister, all while he threw a miniature temper tantrum and took out his frustrations on a spare tuft of grass. She was used to his childish mannerisms at times, and neither of them were able to rest easy when knowing that today was the fateful day.

She blinked in puzzlement when she took notice of the Thompson sisters entering the courtyard. Elizabeth was taller than she remembered, her hands poised practically on her curvy hips, her eyes narrowed and focused, but definitely lacked the same ferocity and intensity that her famous meister possessed. Beside her, Patricia was gawking open-mouthed at the arrangement of barbwire restrictions, her lips curling into a pout as her doe-like eyes danced over the image. Once she caught sight of the other waiting team, she straightened her back and said something inaudible to her older sibling.

Black Star glared as the son of the Shibusen Headmaster stepped out from behind them, carrying a stack of books under one arm; his golden eyes were calm, like concentrated stones. They locked contemplatively with Black Star's own, and the blue-haired meister felt a stark shiver dash down his spine.

Death the Kidd oozed appeal that matched his father in nearly every way. Black Star was not going to let a so-called "amazing technician" like this brat to upstage him. Not today, not ever, and especially not in the Harrowing Trials.

"I'm a bit surprised to see my opponents here early." Kidd cocked an eyebrow. "Any particular reason?"

"We don't have to explain _nothin'_." Black Star's mouth was curled back in a snarl, his muscles twitching for a fight. He wanted to start the tournament-style regime already and get it over with, just to witness the gloomy faces of his opponents while he relished in newfound attention and the admiration he deserved. Tsubaki would, of course, be able to bask in their eventual new glow of appreciation as well, and those two small things were all that mattered to him.

 _Gonna be so worth it…_ He could picture it now—watching as Tsubaki's transformed _shuriken_ form slice and dice through Death the Kidd like smashing open a piñata.

Before long, students began to gather around the barbwire circle. Kidd and the Thompson sisters ignored Black Star and Tsubaki for the remainder of their waiting for the school officials to show up. Each minute that ticked by seemed like an hour, and all that Liz wanted to do at that moment was to lie on her back and sleep for twenty straight hours, just to recover from her meister's brutal obstacle courses. Kidd showed no reflection of apprehension or inner turmoil on his features, but he would be lying if he didn't admit that he was a little nervous.

Maka and Soul appeared out of nowhere, practically shoving multiple students to the ground as they collapsed into the barbwire circle. Soul had to grasp Maka by the sleeve to prevent her from falling straight into the dirt. She flushed heavily beneath the shocked stares and light eruption of snickers from the gathering crowd.

Black Star grinned, saluting the two of them. "Oi, you guys were almost _late_!"

"The one time you get here before us," Maka muttered bitterly. She straightened her posture, dusting off her clothes and glancing around her in confusion. "Where are the officials? I thought they were supposed to be here by now."

"They'll be here soon," Kidd said, grabbing the other team's attention as well. "My father is most likely making last-minute preparations. There's no doubt in my mind that he's made some… ramifications, to make sure that this is all as new to me as it is to you."

Black Star snorted. "Whatever. You could be trying to trick us."

Maka turned to Soul, observing him closely. He was staring into the ground, distracted; she could feel the slight discord in their wavelength, and now was not the time for that. "Soul?" He looked up at her, blinking out of his daydreaming. "Are you alright? We need to be focused from here on out, you know." She grinned crookedly, dipping her head to reassure him. "Okay?"

He nodded, but didn't say anything. His meister decided that it wouldn't be worth it to ask him what was wrong at this point, even with his strange quietness and his refusal to talk about anything. Over the last couple of days he'd been rather tense, especially with realizing that the Harrowing was finally about to begin.

She understood that pestering him too much—and in front of all of these people—would only make him more uneasy.

Lord Death, Medusa, and several other professors of the Academy stepped into the courtyard, standing several feet apart and looking towards the three teams with authoritative dispositions. Maka could feel sweat clam up in her gloved hands, willing herself to remain calm and breathe while in the presence of Lord Death, especially when things were about to change, and she had no idea what to expect.

Lord Death cleared his throat, gathering the attention of the chattering, excited student body, and the three teams as well. He fixated momentarily on Maka and Soul for a slightly longer moment—Maka felt Soul tense up considerably at this gesture—before he finally decided to speak. "Good afternoon, technician and Demon Weapon students of Shibusen! As you all know, today is the first day of the Harrowing Trials. There's been quite a lot of buildup to this point. And, to make things clear, my son, Kidd, does not have an advantage over the other teams, as this entire operation has been completed and revised in total secrecy. Only my fellow staff recognizes the clear points of this project, and everything in-between."

Maka could hear several mutters of disbelief about that. Plenty of gossip sparked in regards to Death the Kidd, and that wasn't a surprise given his blossoming reputation, and the expectations that he would join the school once the Harrowing was completed.

"And, now, we will reveal the final details of the Harrowing, and what the tests will entail. First off, we will introduce the necessary keys, or, should I say, _totems_ , that are crucial to this series of tests."

Right as he spoke, the ground began to shake. Each of the meisters bristled, prepared to wield their weapons if they were required to do so, but in a few moments' time the shaking stopped, and the appearance of three separate objects—taking form from what appeared to be nothing—struck up from the earth.

A chorus of curious "awes" and "oos" reverberated through the crowd; a possible string of envy had probably gone through as well, given the bitterness that some students felt for the fact that they weren't chosen instead.

Each object was blatantly different. The one in the middle, across from Black Star and Tsubaki, resembled a powerful, tall and majestic sword of clear Japanese heritage, coiled through with menacing black vines and a twisted aura of shadows. To the far left, in the path of Kidd and the Thompson sisters, was a floating book. Numerous patterns and ridges adorned its spine and cover, and it emitted a white, volatile spirit that matched the sword's in uneasiness. The final one, to the right of the blade, was a chess piece: one half was black, the other white. The white half resembled the queen piece of a chessboard, and the black resembled the king.

"Interesting," Lord Death said suddenly. "These totems are quite different from what we had all originally anticipated. Nevertheless, the three teams will be required to resonate completely with these objects, and once they interact with the totems, they will be transported to the required areas. There, their skills will be tested in a domain that is far from our reach. Another dimension, if you will."

Maka's eyes bulged wide in shock. She glanced to her right, watching as the expressions of Black Star, Tsubaki, and even Kidd seemed just as surprised as she was. She turned to Soul, noticing that his shoulders had stiffened immensely, his eyes glued to the magnifying effects of their odd totem. The mismatched chess piece was clearly supposed to be a symbol of something, but neither of them had any clue what they were supposed to mean.

"Doesn't matter," Soul growled out roughly, locking gazes with Lord Death with frigid animosity. "Whether we're in this dimension or another, it doesn't fucking matter. We're going to win, no matter what it takes."

Maka blinked in curiosity at the clear splurge of frustration and competitive anger that dwelled in Soul's inner being, briefly jarring their wavelength. It was all directed towards their headmaster, and she immediately thought back to their conversation—a talk that she had promised not to listen to, but she did anyway, behind the safety of closed doors.

He was very, very angry. He wanted to prove something… maybe prove something to Lord Death specifically?

"Once you are transported to your respective domains, you will not be able to have any communication with any individual outside of that course. As in, all three teams will not see each other once during this entire Harrowing. There will be checkpoints to be reached, and certain clues will be given to you during the process, and the time limit is six hours. After six hours, you will be teleported back here, whether you had completed the objective or not. The team that completes the Harrowing successfully with the requirements met, will be crowned the Harrowing Champion, and receive all of the benefits discussed previously."

Lord Death then nodded otwrads Medusa, who gave a faint wave. "Ms. Medusa will be here for emergency care _after_ the Trials are completed. Which means," he paused for dramatic effect, "during the entire course of the tests, you will be completely on your own, using your own resources, and relying on the bonds between meister and weapon to complete the process."

If Maka had heard those words several months ago, weapon-less and destined for what she believed to be disappointment and failure, she would have ignored everything he said and went on her merry way. She would have holed herself up in a library far from the school, wishing she was there, wishing she had this opportunity. But she _was_ here, partnered with a powerful Demon Scythe who challenged her in many ways, and she was more than glad to be in this position.

"He's trying to scare us," Soul muttered, and then he smirked—his smile overtook the bottom half of his face, revealing the intimidating sharpness of his teeth. "But it won't work. Remember, we promised to kick ass during this, _partner_. That's not gonna change now, is it?" He eyed her quickly, and she nodded in response, also sporting an excited and equally competitive grin. "Good."

Maka exhaled. This was it.

Lord Death glanced up at the sky. "Now, each Demon Weapon is required to step first towards each object assigned to them. Once you interact with the totem, the soul wavelength between you and your meister should allow you both to be transported with no further issue. That is part of the original Harrowing tradition."

Soul stared straight ahead towards the chess piece, the conjoining of black and white, the rippling of faded energy that, for some reason, wasn't nearly as strong as the clouds of dark aura surrounding the sword and the book.

"And now," Lord Death continued, his voice booming across the courtyard and grasping each student's attention, "you may approach your totems and begin the Harrowing Trials. Good luck, students."

Soul did not hesitate; he slowly walked forward, watching as Tsubaki as the Thompsons reluctantly approached their respective totems. Tsubaki, in particular, looked extremely unsettled, her entire body visibly shaking.

Black Star's body was rigid with concern. "You've got this, Tsubaki!"

Soul smirked inwardly. They were already at an advantage. He could tell that there was something about that sword that gave of a personal message to Tsubaki—a message that she probably had not relayed to her closest friend, her own technician.

His hands were calmly slipped into his pockets, gazing down at the chess piece that reached the height of his waist, stable and the most interesting totem in appearance. Several students around him were whispering out of curiosity, anticipating what would happen when he finally touched the totem. He glanced up at Lord Death, watching the other's attention—he could _feel_ the intensity, the distrust from the Shibusen Headmaster that shone like a bolt of lightning.

He reached out with one hand, slowly resting his palm on the split between white and black of the king and queen conjunction. In that instance, a blinding silver light danced across the courtyard, his own body reacting to the strong forces of energy circulating in his blood, willing his senses to become alive with newfound fire. He heard Maka yell his name, watched the surprised expressions on the faces of the competing teams, and he almost reveled in the satisfaction that he knew they were somehow ahead.

His world shifted and spun within seconds, throwing everything completely out of order. The courtyard vanished before he could make another coherent thought.

* * *

 **~ 000 ~**

* * *

" _Shit! Tsubaki, can you hear me? Tsubaki!"_

Her fingertips burned, as if the very flesh peeled off just from making reluctant contact with the hilt of the sword. Tsubaki's eyes fluttered open, adjusting to the sight of a crisp, pale blue sky, crisscrossed with an array of fluffy white clouds. She hadn't expected to see something so calm when she first regained consciousness—as soon as Soul Evans touched his totem, the other Demon Weapons had rushed to their own, and within seconds, the courtyard was swamped with confused gasps and startled whispers at the disappearance of each team.

Her body quivered and ached; tremors of emotional exhaustion plagued her muscles and were already dragging at the corridors of her mind. She'd known exactly what her totem was meant to represent, and she hoped that this entire trial wasn't going to encompass those long-embedded fears, those nightmares of her childhood and future ambitions that drove her to become a student at Shibusen in the first place.

"Black Star?" she whispered, wincing. She felt something bumpy beneath her back, slowly leveling off the ground. Her fingers brushed by blades of grass. She turned to look at their surroundings, still disoriented from the intense flashes of energy and deep shadows radiating from the sword she was forced to touch.

"Tsubaki!" Her meister had materialized several yards away from her, clumps of grass and soil roughly strewn through his hair. He knelt down beside her, his expression twisted into one that showed a high level of concern that she wasn't too familiar with. He never let his vulnerable side show—she had to suppress a small smile of gratitude at his secretive, somewhat selfless nature, especially when regarding her. "Fuck, I thought you took us to another planet or something… a forest is no place for a god and his trusty weapon!"

Tsubaki sighed, wincing. "I… don't know what happened. That was so strange." She turned her attention to the gigantic trees surrounding them, far too tall and broad to resemble anything in Death City, or even Nevada, for that matter. This place was already much greener than either of them expected, absent of the usual tumbleweeds and blistering heat of the desert. "Where do you think we are?"

"Don't know," he muttered. He pressed his palm to her back to help her stand up. He folded his arms across his chest, surveying the wide, open space of tall grass and upturned tree roots, each one gnarly like the toes of giants from old fairy tales. "If this is what the Headmaster thinks is tough, then…" He trailed off, scratching his head. "That sounded better in my head…"

Tsubaki chuckled, causing her partner's cheeks to flush. He turned away from her, scoffing in his own cloud of embarrassment.

"Whatever. Let's just… move forward. Yeah. So, he mentioned that we need to find some clues, right? You know about that stuff, Tsubaki. Where could we find a clue," he gestured with wide, open arms towards the scenery around them, "in _this_?"

His weapon shrugged, trying to ignore the voices of her conscience nipping at the back of her mind. "There must be something somewhere."

"So," Black Star began, looking at her curiously. "Did you see something? You know, when you touched the sword? You looked kinda…" he paused, not sure if he should press her at this moment, but whatever information they would need that could be available to them, would be equally valuable. The moment the sword materialized in front of them, Tsubaki had started shaking and panicking, disrupting the normally stable cord of their wavelength—the last time that happened… hell, he couldn't even remember it was so long ago. "Just, you know, you can totally tell me anything. Yeah."

She glanced at him quizzically, and plastered on a tiny smile. "I know that." She wanted to tell him. She wanted to pour out all of her secrets, for both of their sakes. This meant so much to the both of them, and within six hours, once the Trials were completed, she hoped that they would stand at the end of the Harrowing with their heads held high and stars awarded to their name.

She hadn't expected the appearance of _that sword_ to represent their totem… it was dark magic, she could tell. The Harrowing was governed by something sinister and entirely out of their reach, but she wasn't sure what.

"Let's go that way," Black Star said suddenly, cutting off his partner's train of thought. She followed his gaze toward one of three separate paths placed in front of them: separate gaping holes of blackness. The shadows were too thick to tell what lay beyond each path. His finger drifted between the three entrances, groaning in misery. "Dammit! I can't make decisions like this!" He scowled. "This is insulting to me, Black Star, the ultimate godly meister!"

"There must be something different in each path," Tsubaki murmured.

"Then…" Black Star's nose wrinkled. "We go through the best one!"

"Black Star," his partner interjected, "they all look the same. We can't risk it too early."

She hesitated, willing her meister to remain controlled with his impulses. She stood straight, trying to concentrate, glancing between the three gaping black holes, and trying to see if there was any distinction, anything at all, that could possibly come off as a clue. But there was nothing. Even if they tried resonating here, amidst the barricade of greenery, they wouldn't be able to pinpoint anything beyond where they stood.

And then, she stiffened. The ground beneath them rippled, like the spines of a crocodile winding through a river. She shared a wide-eyed stare with her meister, realization coming across both of their faces. The trees started to sway, despite their enormous size, and the gnarled roots began to shift, breaking the laws of time.

"Black Star…" Her face blanched "The forest is _moving_."

* * *

 **~ 000 ~**

* * *

Kidd winced at the instant pain that zapped through his muscles. The teleportation between the courtyard at his own school and wherever he was now had taken a fraction of a second, but he couldn't decipher whether he'd lost consciousness or not. He could feel the wavelengths of the twins, glad that the both of them were safe and apparently in his proximity. He opened his eyes, adjusting to the appearance of a scalding sun, far different from the laughing golden orb that haunted Death City's skies.

He sat up, groaning in misery at a developing migraine.

"Kidd! Over here!" He turned, sighing in relief at the sight of Liz, standing straight up and stretching her arms high above her head, as if enjoying the intense heat beating down on their bodies. When Kidd surveyed his surroundings, he couldn't detect any signs of life within miles upon miles, not even the appearance of possible civilization. He'd expected to see at least a tower or two, but nothing.

It was a wide, windswept desert terrain, with not one dried bush to signify the presence of life. He brushed the sand particles off his clothes, inwardly quite glad that the sand dunes seemed perfectly aligned, and his obsessive-compulsive tendencies were not overriding in response to the notably flat area. He didn't understand the totem that was assigned to them—that morbid, almost monstrous-looking book that he'd never seen before in his life had captured his attention right before the Thompsons touched it.

It was the impulsiveness of Soul Evans' actions that started the Harrowing a few minutes earlier than they would've expected. That stupid teenager made things difficult for him and Liz and Patti—he wanted to talk with them a little more before they rushed into the tests, but if they waited a second longer, they would've lagged behind Maka and Soul by a few solid minutes.

Every second was precious.

"Great," Liz groaned out, sighing. She flicked strands of hair away from her face, perturbed. "Well, this _sucks_. What the hell are we supposed to do now? We're stuck in the middle of a desert. There's literally nothing else in sight. Nothing that even serves as a clue." She stared at Kidd expectantly. "You didn't set off your old man before this whole thing, right? He wouldn't be cruel enough to put us in the middle of a desert just because he was mad at you?"

She was only half-joking…

Kidd rolled his eyes, crossing is arms. "My father doesn't have control over the power of the totems. I suspected that he would try to use them, but incorporating those into the Harrowing would require a lot of technical prowess and magic. I'm guessing that he somehow conjured them up before presenting them to us, for the sake of preparation time." Still, it bothered him that his father would dabble in something so… ancient, and somewhat untouchable, at least, according to the books he'd read through.

"We can try and find an oasis!" Patti chirped, forever the optimist of the three of them.

Liz patted her sister's shoulder. "That would be a great idea, Patricia, if we knew where one _was_. Seriously, how are we going to figure this out? We're literally in the middle of nowhere!"

Kidd paused, holding up one hand. "Wait."

He heard something.

Patti blinked curiously, squinting through the blinding light of the desert. She then outstretched one arm, pointing successfully towards a developing movement in the swiftly churning sands. "Do you guys see that? It's so big! And it might be coming towards us!" She smiled brightly. "Oh, this will be so fun!"

Kidd had to remain calm, but his heart jumped nonetheless. She was definitely right—something large, _huge_ , was rushing towards them in lightning speed. And then, as soon as Liz and Patti transformed into their Twin Gun forms and settled in his hands, the shadowed form disappeared. He ground his heels into the sand, his elbows poised for a quick movement if need be.

" _What was that?"_ Liz asked.

" _I saw it though! And Kidd saw it too!"_ Patti responded, sounding just as confused as her meister was feeling at the moment.

Kidd couldn't afford to keep his guard down. He then gasped in extraordinary pain, blood already pooling in his mouth; he hacked and coughed, as the twins screamed in surprise at his anguish. He griped, his fingers momentarily losing their grip on his weapons, and he was soon lying on the ground, the sudden impact leaving a harsh jabbing in his back. He was totally paralyzed—it was impossible to move, as if a strong force was pulsing through his bloodstream, manipulating his muscles and causing them to constrict and tighten.

Liz and Patti were in their original forms at his side, their jaws slack at the sight before them—the gigantic, scaled tail, revealed to be attached to a gigantic, grotesque creature that resembled a cross between a reptile and an insect. Its numerous, sprawling legs and long, serpentine body was rippling with deep crimson scales, the blades flicked up in twin rows along its back. Pincers were propped up near the front, each one just as big as Kidd's whole body in diameter, and the menacing tip of its whip-like tail was bolstering the stinger that punctured him in the back—a surprising maneuver that he should've seen coming.

"H-Holy _shit_ …" Liz was at a loss for words. Patti quickly grabbed Kidd's body, trying to haul him up off the sand. The creature was charging towards them once more, burying its body deep into the sand and swimming towards them, its movements akin to a shark hunting for a fresh target in the water.

Kidd was sweating, losing energy quickly with each breath he took. He was so angry that he couldn't move, trying desperately to remain calm. "G-Get away from it…!" He choked, spitting out a fresh gob of blood and saliva. Liz's face hardened, and she grabbed Kidd's body, hauling him over her shoulders and pumping her legs as fast as possible. Patti was right beside her, all three of them barely missing the snapping of the monstrous scorpion hybrid's pincers.

"It… will kill you both…"

"We're in this together, freak!" Liz snapped, keeping her gaze fixed straight ahead. "We're not going to die at the hands of some nasty-ass bug thing! So deal with it!"

"It's coming closer!" Patti said, grabbing her sister's forearm and sharply turning to avoid the surprise appearance of another tail-sweep. They barely missed the stinger.

Kidd groaned, trying his best to will his soul to beat with theirs. He needed to help them, and he needed to gain command of his body _now_.

* * *

 **A/N: Hahahahaha, look at that lovely cliffhanger! The next chapters with the Harrowing will be a bit longer, and trust me, plenty more of Soul and Maka… but this is the grand introduction, peeps. Much more to come from here on out! I promise there's a lot more going on than you probably think. I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Thank you so much for the reviews so far everybody! I really appreciate it. It's so motivating for me as an author. :)**

 **REVIEW GOAL**

 **70 – 75**

 **That's asking for a ton, but go big or go home! Would love to hear what you guys think so far! Thank so much for reading! Until next time!**

 **\- Sulfur Dusk**


	10. The Harrowing - Part Two

**His Meister, Her Weapon**

* * *

 **Summary:** _Whether it was destiny or luck, she couldn't decide: a chance meeting, a demonic grin, an unbreakable contract and, suddenly, Maka's soul was no longer hers. – A darker retelling of Soul Eater –_

 **A/N:** _Yeah, this chapter's pretty lengthy, but there's a lot to cover. Hope you all enjoyed the first part of the Harrowing! Here's more to the story. :)_

* * *

 **9**

The Harrowing – Part Two

* * *

The air tasted like salt, leaving a trail of bitterness in Maka's throat. She inhaled shakily, coughing to exude the fumes of the frigid cold building up in her windpipe. Her eyes flickered open, glancing to her left and right—her arms were splayed in seemingly unnatural positions, and she felt her muscles recoil when she tried sitting up straight. She cracked her shoulder, wincing at the pain reverberating through the bones and tissue. Still, something seemed amiss—she recalled how Soul reached out towards the totem, the strange chess piece, teetering on the edges of black and white, featuring the halved bodies of a king and queen…

 _Great._ She rolled her eyes, her attention fixing on her surroundings for a better grasp on what happened to her and her partner. She flexed her fingers, recognizing the jolt of electricity and numbness that captured her skin. Her vision finally cleared, and she saw that she was lying on time-stopped, frosted earth, swaying with decaying grass. The mouth of an open cave was several yards from where she was, a portal to an outside landscape of brittle forestry and mountains in the distance.

"Soul?" She grimaced, putting her hand on the cavern wall for support. "Soul? Are you there?"

He couldn't have wandered far. Where was he?

"If I were a Demon Scythe…" she frowned, pondering. "Where would I end up after touching some freaky portal chess piece?" She knew that, wherever she was, she wouldn't be able to fend off whatever threat lied in the woods beyond if she wasn't properly equipped. She could already hear her teachers' voices pestering her in the back of her mind, ridiculing her for "forgetting" to bolster her weapon of choice.

She had no other option. She _had_ to go forward.

The glare of a noonday sun streamed through a canopy of tangled leaves, directly above the entrance to an expanse of plantation that resembled a square forest space. Maka traced the heel of her shoe in the soil, as if hoping that Soul would respond somehow, like their severed wavelength could jumble back into reality and let her detect his whereabouts.

She glanced up at the trees, at the way the clouds already began to darken, and it was at this moment that she realized that the sun was not grinning, smiling, or laughing in any way—it was absent of a face. This wasn't in Nevada; she had no idea where she could possibly be, and she had no way to contact her partner.

 _I wonder if Tsubaki and Black Star are in a situation like this._ She sighed, placing her hands on her hips. Her eyebrow raised, as if mocking the swaying branches and the stiffness of the reddened bark. She wondered if he was somewhere deep in the heart of the forest, and briefly thought back to retreating to the cave, to check again to see if he was actually there. He wasn't trying to mess with her, was he?

 _No_ , she thought, with slight contempt, _not even he would be stupid enough to pull something like that._

Absentmindedly, she reached to the spot beneath her clothes, to the dim blue tattoo right above her breast. She thought back to the time they first met, to the awkward collision of his mouth upon hers, and the total disgust that showed on his face afterwards. He was an oddball she started to trust and actually begin _liking_ as a person, rather than someone she should fear. He'd demonstrated plenty of natural talent during classes and even against Black Star and Tsubaki in sparring matches, but nothing at a level that would prove them to be a fated partnership.

Her nose scrunched up at the last thought. Her father used to talk to her about "fate," and how it tied him and her mother together. As far as Maka was concerned, there was nothing "fateful" about her father meeting his wife, and their relationship ripped apart due to his terrible decisions, and her choice to leave them. At times, Maka hated them both, and couldn't decide why. What right did her father have to talk about fate and loyalty and destiny?

 _He never knew what he was talking about._ She kicked a clump of soil, watching the tufts of grass fly off the ground. Exhaling shakily, she winced as the winds picked up, and a cool breeze whipped across her exposed skin.

And then, Maka's surroundings seemed to change. The tree branches twitched like broken fingers, the ground seemed to flatten, and her heart started pounding for reasons unknown to her. A strange light sifted through the blooming darkness, prompting her to walk closer towards the belly of the forest, as if beckoned towards a gaping mouth of a slumbering monster. Her will told her not to move forward, but she was nonetheless compelled to, whether the decision would be found intelligent or stupid. She found herself lying somewhere in the middle, trapped in a seesaw of possibilities.

She turned on her heel, and was forced to watch the trees close in from where she exited the cave—the roots tangled, twirled, sloped and curved into a stiff, tightened wall. Moss and stones sprouted instantaneously across the bark, overlaying the monstrous stumps like green and gray sweaters. Maka stepped back, realizing, with a swift skip of a heartbeat, that she was forced to walk further in the forest, and now with no way of turning back.

 _Wonderful way to start off the Harrowing_ , she thought.

A whisper danced through the leaves, and Maka braced herself. Her knuckles flexed, and she knew something was coming. She exhaled and inhaled repeatedly, trying her best to remain calm, trying to recall how to reach out to Soul—their connection was so bleak, and practically nonexistent, and this would undoubtedly serve them horribly in the Harrowing.

She blinked, her shoulders and legs stiff, as the brush rustled and turned, only for a tiny black creature to emerge from the foliage. It moved so quickly that Maka thought it to be a squirrel or a mole, but it was, in fact, a _cat_. The tiny animal glanced up at her with wide, gaping eyes, casually licking its paws. Its fur was as black as dusk, and the eyes were amber and gentle.

"A cat?" Maka wondered aloud. She knelt down to the ground, reaching out and tentatively scratching the feline's head. It purred in response, fur bristling with pleasure. "Well, at least you're kind of cute."

Was this part of her test…? Was she supposed to _rescue_ this adorable creature? She doubted it; perhaps it was a fluke. Maybe Lord Death felt like messing with her and wanted to throw off her mission to find Soul with a cute distraction. It would've worked on Black Star or Tsubaki… for maybe ten minutes.

The cat then shifted to the side, leaping a couple yards away from Maka. It watched her, as if beckoning her with its hypnotizing eyes.

Maka stood up, her fists clenching at her sides. This could very well be a trick…

"If you were smart, silly girl, you would follow me."

Maka blinked in disbelief, grumbling. "You… did you just _talk_?"

The cat mewed and swept a wet paw over an ear. If the creature were capable, Maka swore that the little cat would have smiled sinisterly.

"I'm just here to have fun and play games, silly Maka Albarn."

Maka's brow furrowed. "No… I don't believe you. You're trying to distract me."

She shook her head; now was not the time to be talking to an anthropomorphic, wisecracking _cat_. She needed to find Soul—she couldn't think straight with the thought of him probably killing himself or rushing headfirst into battle all on his own. His power wouldn't be enough without her; hell, it was one of the basic lessons she learned as a first-year training technician.

"You really _are_ silly to lose your partner like that!" The cat said snidely, tilting its head to the side. The voice registered as female to Maka's ears, but she wasn't sure. "He's here, somewhere… I'm allowed to give you a couple hints, if you'll listen. By the way, you've been unconscious for two hours already. There are only four hours left in this series of tests."

Maka blanched. _That can't be right!_ She closed her eyes, inhaling, practicing her breathing exercises and counting as slowly and steadily as she could. Maybe Soul would be able to reach out to her if she calmed herself. If he was here, in this forest, then they weren't far apart at all.

"Where's Soul?" Maka demanded.

The cat purred. "Your adorable partner is somewhere in the woods. I can take you to him, if you do one thing for me!"

The leaves around them stirred as another force of energy broke into the wilderness. Maka jumped back as a collection of floating pumpkins appeared before her very eyes. Slashes of shadowed, jagged teeth cut through their orange flesh, triangular portals for eyes flashing with golden light. The transformed jack-o-lanterns cackled like banshees, sending chills down Maka's spine.

Her fingers flexed, aching for the feel of her weapon in her hands, and the heat rushed to her temples when the sick realization of Soul's absence hit her once more like a battering ram.

"Hurry up and get moving! They'll kill you if you let them!" the cat declared haughtily before turning on its heels and disappearing into the underbrush. Maka bristled and watched, petrified, as the vacant holes for eyes that the jack-o-lanterns possessed suddenly glowed with orange fire.

Maka leapt up, swung her leg as hard as she could, and listened to the crackle of the vegetable's flesh beneath the weight of her shoe as it swayed to the left. However, the pumpkin's smile was only momentarily broken; the teeth turned back to normal in seconds, and a chorus of haunting laughter echoed in the forest.

 _Great. Of course I'm stuck with possessed pumpkins…_ She dodged a beam of shadow and fire that blasted from the collection of pumpkins. She couldn't believe she was stuck in this situation, but she knew she had no choice. If Soul were with her, she could easily slice each of them in two if she wanted.

Maka did the only thing she could do: run, and as far and as fast as she could. She ducked, jumped, twisted, turned, and writhed through the thick, uncertain swath of dark greens and blacks and browns that formed the dangerous woods enclosed around her. She wondered if she would find the cat—that stupid feline was responsible for what was happening in the first place, at least… since she'd gotten there.

 _The cat said that Soul is here somewhere._ Her eyes narrowed in concentration, and her pace quickened when she heard the bellowing laughter of the jack-o-lanterns closing in behind her. _I have to lose them…_ She grabbed a tree branch, flipped on top and descended onto one of the pumpkins. Quickly, she grabbed the empty eye sockets of one of them and tore as hard as she could, successfully splitting the entire vegetable in half. The other jack-o-lanterns paused in shock from her sudden appearance; Maka used this opportunity to turn on her heel once more and dash in the opposite direction.

She didn't know where she was supposed to go—until, the trees suddenly spread to the side, and the jack-o-lanterns froze in pursuing her. She turned, blanching at the close proximity of the remaining pumpkins. A shiver erupted in her limbs, slightly calming her while her skin simultaneously felt like it was set on fire. She turned, staring ahead into a long, seemingly endless sidewalk.

Maka's fists clenched. This had to be another trick… none of this made any sense. She glanced over her shoulder, expecting to inhale another gulp of salty air and brine and catch a glimpse of the swishing leaves of trembling trees. Instead, she was greeted with a simple closed-off setting of what used to be the woods. Around her, different objects and figments of another scenery began to take form, introducing her in a world that she was definitely not familiar with. At first, she expected to see something resembling a city, or a village that she had crossed into at one point in her life, but she was not greeted with this at all.

A fog that seemed to stretch for miles upon miles enveloped the remainder of what would be in front of her. Vacant, ghostly buildings were positioned off to the sides, and she was alone on a stretch of cracked sidewalk that vanished into the gray veil of mist. Her throat ran dry with uncertainty; she thought about how she could turn back, to look for Soul Evans in another direction that didn't require her to navigate through a place like this.

Her eyes widened once the same black feline from before appeared in front of her. It sat neatly, its tail curled around tiny, dainty paws. Maka's brow furrowed and twitched; she wanted to strangle this stupid cat for already causing so much trouble.

"Well, you definitely move fast! I can give you some credit for that!" the cat squeaked, purring and staring up at Maka with those infuriatingly huge golden eyes. "Oh, don't look at me like that… I didn't want to send evil possessed pumpkins after you! It was simply a part of what I'm supposed to do here for you. That's the part of the Harrowing, isn't it? It's a _test_ , not a casual _walkabout_."

Maka folded her arms, sighing. "Look, just give it to me straight on what I need to do. This test is messing with me, I can see that. But why here? Why this… fog?" She gestured to her surroundings, grumbling. "This isn't what I expected."

"What _did_ you expect?" the cat giggled. Maka glowered darkly. "Part of what is making this so hard for you is mostly your own fault, silly girl! You need to let go of something about you to succeed! Has that not been made obvious?"

Maka blinked. "Let go of something about me?" She thought back to Lord Death, how he discussed the external and internal challenges of the Harrowing Trials, how they were designed to make the participants question things about themselves and their training… but with the information she was just given, there could be much more to the game than she originally thought. _There's no way I can even move on unless I find Soul…_ "Listen," she barked, "I need you to give me a hint. A pointer. _Where is my partner_?"

"That would be cheating!" the cat purred. "Maka Albarn, there are plenty of ways that the Harrowing is going to challenge you. I can only guide you in a decent direction. But give hints? I've already told you that he's in the forest!"

"He clearly wasn't there!" Maka countered. "You can't expect me to believe any of this. I entered this competition _with_ Soul. I don't understand how we separated…"

The cat shrugged, which irritated the human girl to no end. "It sounds like you've already guessed why you could be in different places. The Harrowing is supposed to make things difficult for you, but not _impossible_. Hopefully that helps, silly girl!" The feline winked and, within the next second, disappeared in a bloom of smoke.

Maka sighed breathily. _Okay, Maka, start from square one. There has to be a reason why you came here without Soul._ She stared ahead into the impending fog, the twisted aura of crisp whiteness that would most likely betray her in her darkest moments. She only had her fists and legs to help her if she encountered any danger, and that in itself wasn't reassuring—what if something monstrous lied within the fog, ready to pounce on her and tear her piece by piece? If she weren't careful, her blood would fill the cracks of the ground she walked on…

She wondered what her mother or, hell, what her own _father_ would've done. Hesitating, she ignored the pounding of her heart and started motioning towards the fog. There was no other direction she could go but forward, and in the back of her mind she pictured the grotesque smile of the cat flashing in the darkness.

* * *

 **~ 000 ~**

* * *

The moment he'd touched the Harrowing Totem, his entire world went black. Maka's voice disappeared behind him, and she felt so close, a hairsbreadth away from his body being flung through some twisted fabric of time and the supernatural. He'd screeched for support, hoping to the very core of his bones and heart that someone would be able to hear him. As soon as his fingers brushed the patterned surface of the double-faced chess piece, he knew he was in for something different, something he'd never experienced before.

"God. Fucking. Dammit." Soul's mouth opened only slightly to allow himself to breathe. A headache throbbed in his temples. His teeth ground so coarsely he felt blood seep between his gums. His eyes fluttered open to swallow the scenery before him, and it wasn't at all what he'd expected.

He was on a stage. To his left and right, he could see dramatic red curtains, billowing only a touch for the sake of momentary distraction. Spotlights flashed overhead, obscuring his eyesight for a few more seconds than he would've liked. He heard the shuffling of footsteps, but couldn't pinpoint where the echoes were coming from. He turned to stare past his stiffened shoulders, past the dozens upon dozens of velveteen chairs, to multiple pairs of dark wooden doors that would never open.

Soul shook his head, groaning in misery. "Where am I…?" He blinked once more and looked down at his hands, just now noticing his change of attire. He was wearing a suit, one that would have picked his entire life savings clean if he were to buy it himself, and the gloves swallowing his hands felt constricting—bright platinum shackles snapped around his wrists. The chains led like twin snakes towards the legs of a majestic piano, from which he realized his fingers were now grazing the keys.

His throat went dry. This couldn't be happening…

"Okay, whoever put me on this stage, get me the fuck out! I know you can hear me! Whoever's in charge of this stupid test trial, I know this isn't real!" He yanked hard on the chains, snarling repeatedly when his attempts only became more and more futile. He blinked at the sounds of the doors opening, and suddenly people actually came pouring in—all elaborately dressed, talking frantically and tipping wine glasses to each other in a fanciful, jolly manner. He couldn't believe what he was seeing.

Before long, the entire room was full, the spotlights beating harder on the nape of his neck. Sweat slicked his skin, his fingers shaking with apprehension. The audience stopped talking, but no one announced his name, his signal for a performance, nothing. He was alone on center-stage with absolutely no reason to be there.

He inhaled slowly. _Okay, Evans. Try to be calm. Don't flip out._ He didn't really have a choice in the matter, after all. One step into the Harrowing and he was already chained to a piano with forcible restraints and nowhere else to go. The only thing he could do at the moment would be to touch the keys and work the magic of his bloodline. A bloodline that he, unfortunately, loathed.

"Go on, Soul. You're the star of the show! You may as well give the people what they want."

Soul blanched. _No…_ He craned his neck, his chest tightening in disbelief, and his eyes widened in shock at the sight of an older man, one who resembled his own image in many ways, but was still starkly different.

He was tall, slender, yet strong and poised, and carried himself with dignity and passion that Soul was unable to obtain. Locks of thick brunette hair were gelled back, matching the pristine nature of his movements and his grace. They had the same eyes, though the nameless figure sported the intensity in a different way, one that wasn't totally aggressive or frustrated like Soul's. His crisp, unblemished white suit was the perfect contrast to the piano player's.

The violin poised on his shoulder with matching gloves and a trademark smile that sent shivers snaking down Soul's spine told him that, indeed, the person before him was who he thought it was.

"W-Wes…?"

The older man turned towards him directly, a casual, friendly smile overtaking those irritatingly perfect lips. "Little brother, you look terrified. You should probably straighten up since the show's about to start."

"You're…" Soul growled. "No…" He turned away from him, the pain in his skull growing bigger and rougher. "You're not _real_." His entire body shook and sweated and rallied back and forth from the force of his emotions with too much ferocity for him to handle. He could feel his wavelength going completely out of balance, and the fact that his newly acquired meister wasn't here only made matters worse…

Maka. Where was she? He tried to focus on her instead of what was happening around him… he knew this wasn't real. It was an illusion. His godforsaken _older brother_ was _not_ standing next to him on a gorgeous stage surrounded by the adoring public… there was no way it could be true.

"Eh, Soul, look! Even your friends came to see you play. Damn. That's some dedication right there. And here I thought you wouldn't make any friends after you ran away like that."

Soul swallowed, trying to ignore the compulsion to listen to Wes's words and follow the other's trailing gaze. But he did, and there, in the front row, were the few students he'd come to know at Shibusen.

Black Star and Tsubaki were sitting next to each other, both dressed accordingly and matching in particular arrangements from their clothing alone. The blue-haired meister sported a black bowtie and tacky pinstriped suit, while the Demon Weapon beside him looked lovely in a gown as white as the string of pearls laced around her neck. Death the Kidd and the Thompson sisters were there as well, all matching predictably in the exact same style of a white layer and black gloves, the alternative to what the son of the Headmaster would normally wear.

"Hmmm… I guess there's one missing. Such a shame. She's quite a little dime, that meister of yours," Wes added tauntingly.

"Shut the hell up! You're not even real, you fucker!" Soul snapped, and the shackles twisted harder on his wrists and forced his fingers onto the keys. A resounding _slap_ of jumbled musical notes danced across the audience, though the unpleasantness of the sound made many of the guests grumble. He grimaced; he hadn't played since he met Maka… and even that day had been so long after he'd fled the life he once knew.

Memories he'd kept hidden and locked tightly in the deepest, darkest corners of his mind threatened to reappear. Quickly, he turned to thinking about his meister, wondering where she could be when the others were there…

 _No! Stop it, you idiot! They're all fake. Kidd and Black Star are competing in this stupid series of tests too… they're not here!_

"You should play, little brother. The show's about to start," Wes murmured. And then, the crowd went silent, the lights dimmed, and the focus was entirely on the two of them. "Remember, play along with my notes. That's how we rehearsed."

"Shut up…" Soul growled. He wanted to scream at how unbearable this was, and he hated how _real_ it felt. Why did the Harrowing have to be like this? Why did this all have to feel and look so damn real? Wes couldn't actually be there with him, saying these things… it wasn't possible. _It's not possible_.

Fuck. Where the hell was Maka?

* * *

 **~ 000 ~**

* * *

The mist only grew thicker with each second. Maka groaned in frustration and halted once every fifteen minutes of walking, keeping her fists clenched in preparation for anything to leap out of the veil of mist and attack her. She was unreasonably defenseless—not having Soul at her side was beginning to bother her more than she would've thought possible. One of the upsides was not encountering that annoying cat for at least an hour now.

And then, she lurched forward in pain and nearly fell onto her hands and knees. Her chest burned vividly, as if someone was lighting matches to her flesh, and she grasped the area where the blue tattoo shone beneath the layers of fabric. The pulse of her heart pounding against her ribcage and the sensation that sizzled from the mark on her skin brought up several thoughts in Maka's mind.

 _He has to be close!_ She thought with hope, momentarily ignoring the scorching heat threatening to devour the inner core of her body. She winced, her teeth gnashing in pain. Her mark never burned this long and this badly—it was always in short bursts, usually in response to Soul experiencing some form of distress.

Her eyes widened. "Soul…" She needed to find him. Something was very, very wrong.

Maka stopped suddenly, blinking in surprise as the fog cleared around her once more. Out of seemingly nowhere, as if a god had placed it for her convenience, a bright red door came into being in front of her. She hesitated, groaning in agony from the increasing heat of the mark's burns. She inhaled calmly, observing the door with interest. It seemed normal, despite the fact that it was standing alone with no building in sight. The handle was polished, copper and simple, practically begging for her to grab.

She took one step forward—

" _Ah, ah, ah. I'm afraid I can't let you do that, Ms. Albarn."_

Maka bristled and whipped around, breathing heavily. She expected to see someone there, but alas, no one. A laugh rang out in the fog, coming from multiple directions, and she glanced down at the gravel to see dark forms liquefying into the conjoined stones. "What in Death's name…?"

"You're quite persistent, really! It's very impressive. The Harrowing Trials are meant to test each and every one of you accordingly, and dare I say, you have surpassed my expectations, and it's only been a couple hours. However, you've failed to find your partner, which is, on its own, quite disheartening."

Maka growled. "Show yourself!" She turned to the door, planning out how long it would take if she had to sprint as fast as she could before the owner of the voice could stop her.

" _That would make this a lot less fun, don't you think?"_

The tendrils of darkness slithering across the stones suddenly lifted their beady little heads. Maka swallowed and realized that the strings had transformed into several serpents—snakes with rippling green scales and hypnotic red eyes. They hissed and bared their menacing fangs in preparation to attack her. They were warning her, trying to keep her from reaching the door.

"Coward! I expected a lot more from such a prestigious test! These snakes don't scare me in the slightest!" She knew that taunting whoever this person was would not have been the most intelligent move, but without a weapon or the proper equipment to fight the serpents surrounding her, she didn't think she had any other choice.

She whipped around and reached for the door handle, only for her wrist to be yanked back. Her back smacked against the ground and she gripped the asphalt and cobblestones with as much strength she could muster, noticing that the tail of one of the snakes was tightly wrapped around her hand. She shook it off, and the serpent crawled on its thick belly towards the others. Maka watched, bewildered, as the shadowed forms collided, sprouting from the ground and transforming into something much larger than she would've expected. The combined snakes rippled their bodies in unison as one giant reptile, the enormous jaws and fangs seeping with venom and practically oozing the promise of death.

Maka felt a bead of sweat trickle down her temple. She stood up, remaining as calm as she could. The creature was swerving to and fro in front of the door, pressuring her to remain backed off.

" _There's nowhere for you to run, Ms. Albarn. This particular gatekeeper will not let you through, and you have no weapon to accommodate for your problem!"_

 _Great._ Maka steadied her breathing as best she could. She couldn't panic now. She had so much to live for, and failing the Harrowing and possibly _dying_ was not on the list of agendas she wanted to accomplish this year.

"Soul is beyond that door. There's no other reason why you'd be protecting it."

The leviathan hissed, a sound that reverberated through the fog in tremors. Maka swallowed, but dared not to show her true emotions lying beneath the layer of indifference. She would do her best to remain courageous, even when her fingers quaked with each breath she took.

" _Perhaps,"_ the voice replied, echoing around the giant snake.

Maka dipped her head. "You know, I've taken plenty of history classes. I've memorized a lot of important information. I also know that Lord Death wouldn't scam us like this and breach some of the rules." She folded her arms. "The Harrowing is supposed to be a series of tests that allow obstacles to block our path and constructively force us to grow, while also becoming more compatible with our other halves."

The snake watched her idly, and the voice returned, sounding more than unimpressed. _"Your point?"_

"My _point_ is that you're a faulty addition to the tests. You're cornering me and focusing all of your energy on stopping me from making contact with my partner. I highly doubt that our first checkpoint is beyond that door. Hell, even that damned _cat_ back in the woods gave me plenty of hints that still steered me in this direction. Because that's how the Harrowing is designed. But _you_ … you have other motives." Maka watched the serpent carefully, determined olive clashing with the ferocious reds and oranges of the scaled beast. "You're not supposed to be in this test."

A moment of silence stretched between them, and the snake did not move one muscle. Maka braced herself for a jumpstart attack, her legs prepared to jump out of the way if they had to. She hoped her instincts—and her memorizing of previous class notes—would be able to bide her some time.

"… _If that were truly the case, Ms. Albarn, what benefit would you have in learning such a fact? Whether I am supposed to be a part of this series of tests or not is up for debate, but I'm currently blocking you from achieving your goal. Isn't that exactly what an 'obstacle' is?"_ The snake hissed in what Maka could only perceive as agreement to this statement. _"It would appear you are way in over your head, Ms. Albarn. Color me not too impressed."_

"I know that I can defeat you if you're not protected by supernatural means. It makes you even less intimidating than you already are." Maka bristled once the snake jerked in reaction to this—she'd struck a chord for sure. "Prove that you're actually a part of this test. Because, if you are, you'll have the guts to face me when I'm properly armed and equipped with my Demon Weapon. It'll be a fair fight at that point."

" _Insolent fool! You speak of nothing but nonsense! Enough stalling. We're going to end this now if you keep opening your puny little mouth!"_

Maka dodged as soon as the snake launched headfirst in her direction. She leapt into the air, landed pointedly on the striking head of the monster, and dashed as fast as she could to the door. In one swift motion, and just as the snake was beginning to recoil, she grabbed the handle, flipped it open and threw herself inside.

The door slammed shut behind her, drowning out the infuriated cries of the monster she'd just tricked.

Her heart racing thunderously, Maka struggled to adjust to her new surroundings. The paleness of the fog from only seconds prior were faded, only to be met with flashes of blinding lights and deep reds and blacks. The scent of lavender drifted through the large, bubbled dome of a place where she stood. Around her, numerous people were clapping, wineglasses were clinking, and countless toothy smiles were flashed left and right. The atmosphere spoke of something of high class, an event that would've required either a lot of money or an invitation.

Maka slowly stood up, glancing around her in awe. She couldn't place how she could be in a theatre like this out of complete nowhere, but the transitions, she supposed, were nothing truly new to the Harrowing. Her eyes then trailed forward, to two figures playing excellent music on the stage. Her pupils dilated on recognizing Soul Evans seated at the most majestic piano she'd ever seen, slamming his fingers repeatedly on the keys and playing unstoppable notes that would have rendered the most outrageous critic blissfully silent.

And beside him was a man Maka had never seen before. He bore striking resemblance to the Demon Weapon, though his features were sharper, older, more mature and static… Soul's freestyle spirit was much more out-of-bounds compared to the mere appearance of the man beside him. His mouth turned into one charismatic smile after the other, and every once in a while he blew kisses to the audience, and Maka heard girls swoon in admiration.

"Oh, well, look there, little brother! Your meister has finally arrived. Come take a seat at the front, guest of honor!"

Soul only kept playing—he hadn't twitched a muscle outside of his fingertips.

Maka blanched, realizing that this stranger was talking to _her_. She'd been so transfixed by the environment that she hadn't noticed the situation she was forced into. She started running, pumping her arms as fast as she could to the front of the stage. She ignored the gawking onlookers and the disapproving noises of those who wanted nothing more than to listen to the two men's music.

"I'm here for my partner," Maka declared loudly.

The man did not act surprised in the slightest. Instead, he smiled. "I was expecting you much later. I'm afraid that you've rendered my younger brother a bit tired from his performance. We've been playing for several hours, you see."

Maka turned to Soul, holding back a gasp. His fingertips, though gloved, were red with what she could only assume to be blood. The shackles around his wrists looked so tight she couldn't believe they weren't cracking beneath the pressure. Rage built up inside her, a newfound sense of protectiveness for him jolting to the surface.

" _Let him go_."

"I'm afraid I can't do that," the man replied, shrugging. "We have many shows to get to after this one. And many more after that… and, what do you know, many more after that. You see, my dear, this is his destiny. An Evans boy is _meant_ for this life. He belongs on this stage."

Maka growled. "I don't know what you're talking about, but don't speak for him. He may be an idiot, but he's not dumb enough to sign his life away to being a slave to his own talents." She hoisted herself up on the stage, fists clenching. "We're finishing the Harrowing together! I'm not letting my partner down!"

The man stepped back, his violin suddenly brought to this side. "Damn. You're feistier than I expected… his opinion of you didn't seem all that believable at first, but I suppose I could let you try to fight me. But let me tell you this: you're not going to win."

Maka's burns suddenly returned, and she looked to Soul's paralyzed, slumping form. "Soul! Can you hear me? You need to get up! We need to fight—"

"Don't talk to him!" the man snarled, nearly smashing her head open with his violin. Maka jumped out of the way, watching as the figure of the man instantly changed. His flesh shifted, morphed, twisted and altered into an oozing black mess, only for the tar-like substance to shift into a larger, much more frightening creature. The violin was melded into its arm, now razor-sharp and deadly. "You will not be taking him from his destiny!"

Maka grimaced. "SOUL! I need you to hear me! I can't fight him alone!"

The mark on her chest burned hotly once more before subsiding. Maka dodged and ducked and shifted as best she could when the monster struck her—a strange mouth had even formed on the black, leathery flesh, where gaping jaws and thick rectangular teeth stuck out in desperation to touch her.

Even then, he did not move.

Before long, the creature's long, grotesque claws slammed against Maka and pinned her down onto the stage. The spotlight shone behind the monster's head, casting a grim halo around the bulging, deformed eye sockets. She'd never seen anything like this monster, and it still spoke to her like some sort of demented human being…

She gasped as he pushed down onto her, her lungs feeling like they were going to collapse. Her bones cracked, her breath slipping away from her…

"S-Soul! Please… We… we need to finish this… together…"

And suddenly, the piano playing ceased. Soul's head jerked back, and he released an earsplitting scream. The chains snapped, dissolving into the air, and the piano broke and shattered like fragments of cheap wood and glass. He whipped around, his bloodied hands torn through the gloves and his eyes completely vacant of his emotions. Maka's heart dropped to her toes at the sight of his face, of the strange ghostly essence that licked across his features like a phantom.

His lips slowly stretched into a smirk, and his left arm morphed into the shape of the familiar blade that Maka had wielded only a few times before. Except, the colors were different. The red had been replaced by a shimmering steely gray, and the chuckle that escaped from Soul's shaking body only made matters worse in his distressed meister's mind.

"If I were you, _big brother_ …" Soul hissed viciously, and within a second that smirk vanished, though his eyes had turned into narrowed pools of fury and fire. "I'd take my nasty ass claws off of her before I get _really_ mad…" He chuckled darkly, and Maka wondered, for a split second, if the person coming to her defense was her partner at all. "Now, brace yourself, _music prodigy motherfucker,_ because _Soul Eater Evans_ is gonna mess. You. Up."

* * *

 **CLIFFHANGER.**

 **I am so sorry everyone for the horrible absence… school has been absolutely insane, but yeah, I am so, so sorry. I hope that this chapter can make up for some of it. Not all, but some. It was a blast to finally complete. The beginning was slow and it took a while but it was really fun to churn out.**

 **MY REVIEW GOAL**

 **73 – 80**

 **Thank you so much everyone for reading! I really hope you enjoyed this chapter! And because of the length of the chapters, the Harrowing will actually be** _ **four**_ **parts (kind of) instead of three. This section took a lot longer than I anticipated.**

 **Thank you everyone and adios!**

 **\- Sulfur Dusk**


End file.
